


Temperance

by allisondraste



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening
Genre: Angst, Childhood, Childhood Friends, Childhood Memories, Coming of Age, F/M, Flashbacks, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Minor Alistair/Female Warden, Multi, Pining, Romance, Slow Burn, Trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-02
Updated: 2019-11-04
Packaged: 2019-11-08 06:26:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 29
Words: 94,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17976173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allisondraste/pseuds/allisondraste
Summary: Nathaniel and Elissa were childhood friends, but time and distance tore them apart.  In the aftermath of the Fifth Blight, and Ferelden's Civil War, both Elissa and Nathaniel must attempt reconstruct their tattered lives.  As a series of events lead them to be reunited, both are reminded of so many years ago when things were much simpler.





	1. From This Day Forth

**Author's Note:**

> For reference, since I know it can be difficult keeping up with ages, for this story's canon:
> 
> Nathaniel was born in 9:05 Dragon (So, he's Cailan's age)  
> Elissa was born in 9:07 Dragon, and Fergus is 5 years older than her.

**_Vigil's Keep, 9:31 Dragon_ **

The stone floor was cold and hard, unforgiving as the heavy iron bars that held him captive.  Grey Warden guards paced about, armored boots clanking against the floor, metal plates scraping together, as the men and women occasionally paused to glare at him judgmentally.  They talked about him as if he were not there, calling him a wide array of offensive names. What a lucky bastard he was for being safe and sound in his prison cell while better men than he fell to darkspawn blades and bows outside!  He should be thankful for his imprisonment, and for the fact that he was not strung up the moment he was caught. How wonderful his captors were for allowing him to freeze his arse off in his own family’s dungeons for “stealing” things that were his by right! It was so ironic it was painful. 

The son of the late Arl Howe, and squire under a trained chevalier in Starkhaven, Nathaniel was not accustomed to being treated as common rabble and especially not a criminal.  When word of his father’s death at the hands of the Grey Wardens had reached him in the Free Marches, it had not occurred to him that he would return home to find his father’s murderers rewarded by Queen Anora herself.  He had spent an entire month in hiding, plotting the assassination of the Warden-Commander, who he held entirely responsible for his current misery. 

Nathaniel tugged at the collar of his shirt, reaching in to pull out a small golden ring that he wore on a chain around his neck.  It had been a gift from his sister when they were children, and even then the band had been too tiny for his fingers. It was the only thing he had left of his family, and the only reason he had failed to follow through with his plan.  When he arrived in Amaranthine to lay his trap, he remembered Delilah and how she would never approve of such violent and brash behavior. He resigned himself to retrieving a few of his family’s things: heirlooms, letters, small sentimental things that the Wardens would have no use for at all.  Unfortunately, he was caught and slammed in the dungeon where he sat as Vigil’s Keep was ambushed by darkspawn. 

There was a small commotion as the sound of a door opening at the top of the stairs echoed through the dungeon.  Nathaniel’s guards clambered to stand at attention, backs straight and arms at their sides. This was obviously not a routine change of guards or visit from their captain.  No, Nathaniel assumed that it was time for his sentencing. At last, he would get to meet the person who murdered his father and destroyed his family face to face. 

The woman who appeared in the doorway before him and to whom the guards saluted was not what he had pictured.  For as grand a title as “Warden-Commander” and “Hero of Ferelden,” she was small, unimposing, and incredibly young.  She could not have been more than nineteen or twenty, with piercing blue eyes that appeared much kinder than the dark brows furrowed above them suggested.  

“Good thing you’re here, Commander,”  one of the guards said before explaining the situation, repeating the same things he had been saying every time a new one of the Warden officers came to gawk at and interrogate him.  Nathaniel had refused to give his name or any other information to anyone other than the Warden-Commander. With his family’s reputation as it was, the notion that he may be subjected to further scrutiny was unappealing.  He thought it better to wait until closer to his execution to tell anyone who he was. 

“Leave me to speak with him, please,” she commanded, her voice gentle yet decisive.  The guards saluted again and exited the dungeon, leaving Nathaniel alone with her. 

“I can’t say you are what I expected in the great ‘Hero of Ferelden’” he remarked snidely, not caring to feign respect. 

“I am not what anyone expected, but I am what they got,” she answered matter-of-factly “I see my reputation precedes me.”

“It does.” He paused briefly. “Though I care little for your titles.  I know you as the one who murdered my father.”

“Your father?” Her brows pressed together more deeply as a concerned expression crossed her face. 

“Of course you wouldn’t remember my father. It was a war after all, and he was just another casualty.”  Nathaniel’s fists balled at his sides as he felt the anger tighten like a vice in his chest. “But why should my whole family have to suffer?”

“I - Um..,” the Warden-Commander shifted uncomfortably where she stood, bringing her arms up to her chest and crossing them, “Who are you?”

“I am Nathaniel Howe, and these are my family’s lands -  or at least they were until you showed up.”

“You are Rendon Howe’s son, then.”  She seemed to think for a moment before opening her mouth to speak again.  “Your father was a traitor.”

“My father,” he spat, ”Served the Hero of River Dane and fought against the Orlesian occupation.  He was a hero, and now because of a horde of darkspawn, a petty civil war, and  _ you _ my family has nothing.”

Nathaniel quieted, looking down at the stone floor that had been his constant companion for the past three days.  He knew that his father was an ill-tempered, difficult man for whom many in the arling and even the landsmeet held no love.  He knew his father was capable of rashness and poor choices. He may have been a traitor, but Nathaniel was certain that he did so because he believed it was the right thing to do. He always did what he thought was best, even if it was painful. 

Nathaniel looked up to meet the Warden-Commander’s gaze again.  “I came here to - I thought I was going to kill you, but then I realized all I wanted was to reclaim some of my family’s things.  It is all I have left.” The words left a bitter taste in his mouth

“I’m sorry,” the Warden-Commander said softly, “You do not belong in this cell.”

“I- _ What? _ ” Her words caught him off guard.  He was prepared for a public hanging, not an apology. “I just told you that I want you dead.”

“I heard you.”  She moved to unlock the door to his cell.  “I think I would want someone to blame, too.  I’m not that person, but I understand why you would think so.” 

“You’re just letting me go?”  Nathaniel remained in the cell despite the door being open.

“Not quite.  I understand you were difficult to apprehend.”

“I am not without skills,” Nathaniel answered, uncertain where this conversation could possibly lead, “My time spent abroad was not chasing skirts and drinking wine.” 

“Then it is lucky for you that the Wardens are not currently in need of a skirt-chaser.”   
  
“Pardon?”   
  
“I am conscripting you.”  It was another matter-of-fact answer from the woman, as if her reasoning was clear as day, despite the fact that it made no sense.

“No. I refuse,”  Nathaniel protested, indignant, “I would rather die.”

“You might die, anyway.  The Joining often claims the lives of our recruits,” she explained, “But I am not foolish enough to believe that every Howe is the same, and I do not wish you hanged for no reason.  Don’t you want a chance to start over? To bring some honor back to your family?”   
  
“I.. don’t know.” For a brief moment he allowed the anger and bitterness to fizzle away, truly considering the offer before he spoke  “I might try to kill you again. Do you like having Wardens who want you dead?”

The Warden-Commander smirked, dropping her hands to her sides. “We have been alone in this dungeon for a while now.  I am unarmed and I just let you out of your cell.” She motioned to the door with her hand. “If you really wanted to kill me, and if you are as skilled as my men tell me you are, you would have done so already.” 

“A bold assumption,” Nathaniel remarked dryly, though he knew that she was right.  It was easy to fantasize about getting revenge on the big bad Grey Warden who killed his father and invaded his home.  It was much harder to stand across from a young woman who offered him mercy and feel the same. She was a person just as he was and just as his father was.  It was possible that she, too, could have done no more than what she believed was necessary. The Warden-Commander offered him the benefit of the doubt, and he felt obliged to give her the same courtesy, as much as he resented it. 

“I’ll do it,” he asserted, with a nod of the head, even as his stomach churned.  

“Good, I’ll get Seneschal Varel, and we can start the ritual as soon as he is able.”

It was not long before the Warden-Commander returned and escorted Nathaniel to the throne room, where the Seneschal  stood by the fire pit holding a large silver chalice. Several other wardens who he had not seen yet lined the hall as well, eyeing him with what appeared to be a mixture of suspicion and concern.  It was more than a little unnerving.    


Nathaniel walked forward to stand by one other recruit, his features sharpened by the light of the fire. The Seneschal began by explaining the purpose of the Joining.  The ritual was held to induct new members into the ranks of the Warden Order, and it required that recruits drink of darkspawn and archdemon blood enchanted with lyrium. It was the source of the Wardens’ power and immunity to the Taint, but it was also their demise if they were not strong enough to withstand the corruption.  In the end, it would kill him anyway. 

The Wardens in the hall began to speak in unison. “Join us brothers and sisters.  Join us in the shadows where we stand vigilant. Join us as we carry our duty that cannot be forsworn. And should you perish, know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten, and that one day we will join you.”

“Ser Brendon, please step forward,” the Seneschal said and a young Templar approached, taking the chalice into his hands, “From this day forth, you are a Grey Warden.”

The Templar drank from the chalice and returned it to the Seneschal.  For a moment, the hall stood in silence, watching and waiting to see if the man would survive.  Suddenly, he fell forward clutching at his throat and gasping for air. The Wardens in the hall watched on, some of them bowing their heads sorrowfully as Ser Brendon stilled, lifeless on the floor.  The Warden-Commander offered her apologies to the now-dead Templar and turned her gaze to Nathaniel. 

“Nathaniel Howe, please step forward,” The Seneschal announced, his voice hoarse at the loss of the other recruit.  Nathaniel inhaled sharply, attempting to calm his nerves, and took hold of the chalice. It was the moment of truth - would he die as the other recruit, his punishment for theft finalized?  Or would he live, and have the chance to be a Howe that history may be proud of once again? He did not realize how badly he wished for the latter until he drew the chalice to his lips, taking a small drink of the thick, dark liquid.

The last thing Nathaniel heard before his consciousness faded, were the Seneschal’s words, sounding if they were shouted across a great distance. 

“From this day forth, Nathaniel, you are a Grey Warden.”  


	2. Monsters Under the Bed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Young Nathaniel and his father make an uncomfortable trip to Highever.

**_Fereldan Countryside, 9:15 Dragon_ **

The day’s journey from Amaranthine to Highever was more like an eternity to Nathaniel as he sat in the back of the carriage attempting to remain completely still and make as little noise as possible.  His father sat across from him, looking out the window intently. He could hardly imagine what was so interesting about the grey Fereldan landscape. It was just hills and rain, and more hills and more rain.  At least it wasn’t cold — well, except for his father’s icy silence. It was a silence with which Nathaniel was familiar, one that meant he was very, very angry.

Over the past several years, the elder Howe had been cross with Nathaniel more days than not, but Nathaniel didn’t really understand why.  He was the oldest of his siblings, and always tried to behave as such, remaining quiet, not breaking anything, and looking after Delilah and Thomas while father was busy. He never cried, not even when he learned his mother was sick.  His younger siblings cried, but not Nathaniel. He had to be strong for them, and for mother, no matter how sad and and scared he felt. A strong Howe man, he tried his best to make his father proud, though it seemed his efforts were in vain. 

There was little Nathaniel could do that didn’t anger the man, let alone please him.  He wanted nothing more than to be treated with the same fatherly warmth Delilah and Thomas received.  Sure, they got in trouble too, but Nathaniel faced the brunt of it all. The more he attempted to earn affection, the more cold and distant his father became. Still, he persisted.  He refused to give up. 

Nathaniel’s most recent attempt to impress had gotten him into major trouble.  Hoping to become a skilled archer like his grandfather, he began practicing with a bow and arrows everyday.  Sometimes the soldiers even helped him set up the hay targets and cheered him on when he made a good shot. He took pride in how close he was able to get to the center of the target and sought to show off his progress; however, his father had been unimpressed with his marksmanship and furious that Nathaniel had found and used the disgraced Padric Howe’s bow to practice. He ripped the bow from Nathaniel’s hands, and made it clear that a man who abandoned his family to indulge a glorified fantasy by joining the Grey Wardens was not someone to idolize.  Grey Wardens were the worst kind of cowards, or so he said. 

This was the closest he had to a reason why he was in a carriage on the way to Highever now.  His father explained nothing to him, simply demanding that he pack his things and get to the stables. At first, the prospect of a father-son trip excited him, but after hours spent in heavy silence, he wished he was back at home.  

They arrived at dusk, streaks of sunset fading quickly behind the grey stone walls of the castle.  Soldiers stood like statues at the gates, armor and shields decorated with the green laurel branches of the Cousland family.  Nathaniel had visited Highever on occasion for feasts and festivals that the two families had begun a tradition of sharing with one another.  His father and Teyrn Cousland fought in the rebellion together, and had become close allies in the years since. Nathaniel always marveled at the kind, even-tempered teyrn, who he wished his father was more like, though he’d never say as much. 

The teyrn was there at the door to greet them when they arrived, eyes squinting with the wide grin he offered them. He spoke the first words Nathaniel had heard since he left Amaranthine.

“Rendon! It has been… some time. Eleanor sends her regards. She is putting our daughter to bed—-or at least attempting to.  That girl is never tired.” he explained cheerfully with a pat to the shoulder before turning toward Nathaniel. “And you! You were only this tall last time I saw you.” He motioned with his hand. “You’re almost a proper man now.”

Nathaniel’s chest swelled with pride, but before he could answer the teyrn, his father cleared his throat and huffed his disagreement. “Hardly.”

“Well, we’ll just have to work on that, won’t we?” Teyrn Cousland winked, keeping his gaze locked with Nathaniel’s for a moment longer, and smiling in a way that made Nathaniel’s chest tighten for reasons he didn’t understand. He tousled Nathaniel’s hair, before turning to address the other man. 

“I believe your boy may be a good influence on him. Perhaps Nathaniel will see how a boy his age should behave.”

“Fergus is a good lad, but...” the teyrn interrupted himself with a chuckle.  “Thirteen, and just this afternoon he let his sister convince him to cover for her as she skipped her lessons...again.” He shook his head. 

Nathaniel vaguely remembered Fergus, having only seen him on occasion and never really speaking.  The Cousland boy was three years older than him, soft spoken, and cheerful like the teyrn. He was  tall, but stocky with sandy brown hair and dark eyes. He couldn’t remember Fergus having a sister, but he’d also never really paid attention, preferring to find a solitary corner amongst the crowds that filled their festivities, away from the noise and from other children who could get him into trouble. He always got in trouble when he played.

The two men continued to talk to one another, father explaining the situation to Teyrn Cousland, as if Nathaniel were not there.  It was the first explanation he had heard about what was to happen. Apparently, his behavior had become a “burden on the family,” and it was hoped that a summer away would “do him some good.”  The words stung, of course, but it was nothing he had never heard before. His father was not one to keep criticism to himself. The idea of a summer away from home without all of the fighting and finger-pointing didn’t sound too bad, when he thought about it.  Sure, he would miss Delilah and Thomas, and he would worry about mother, but considering alternative punishments, he couldn’t help but be relieved. 

Several minutes passed, as Nathaniel stood silently in his father’s shadow listening as the pleasantries wrapped up and one of the teyrn’s servants arrived, looking eagerly at Nathaniel.

“Shall I show you to your room, my lord,” the woman said with a respectful bow.

Nathaniel looked at his father, then to the teyrn, and then back to his father, who, much to Nathaniel’s surprise, raised his eyebrows and smiled slightly. 

“Well, go on,” he urged more gently than typical, only a slight edge of annoyance in his voice, “I will see you at the end of summer.”

Nathaniel smiled and nodded, fighting the tears that burned in his eyes.  He hadn’t expected any parting words at all from his father, especially not words that sounded so much like the man he remembered from years ago. 

“I’m ready,” he said as he looked back to the servant who perked up with his answer. 

“Right this way then, my lord.” She motioned for him to follow her. He picked up his things and walked behind her, stopping just at the arched doorway to turn back.  He opened his mouth to say something to his father, a more formal and affectionate farewell, but thought better of it. To ask for more fondness from the man would have been greedy. Shaking his head, Nathaniel continued on after the servant. 

He followed her down a long narrow hallway and up a flight of dark, stone steps to the wing of the castle that housed rooms of the Cousland family as well as several guest bedrooms, one of which had been readied for Nathaniel.  The servant opened the door for him. He hesitated as he entered the sizable room, feeling like he was somewhere he wasn’t supposed to be. 

The servant bowed again, and exited the room, leaving him alone for the first time since he left Amaranthine. Alone to think about why father would have wanted to hand him off to another family for months.  Alone to worry about mother. Alone to realize he wouldn’t see Delilah or Thomas for longer than he had ever gone without seeing them. The emptiness made his whole body ache.

Just as he was about to give in to the urge to cry, he remembered a gift Delilah handed him when she told him goodbye.  He took the small velveteen pouch from his pocket and tugged on the string, pulling it open. Inside glittered a small golden ring engraved with his sister’s name. It wouldn’t fit on even his smallest finger, but his sister had also stuffed a bit twine into the pouch.  

Threading the twine through the ring, he tied it around his neck, and tucked it into his shirt.  There was a tiny slip of parchment sticking out of the pouch, drawing Nathaniel’s attention. Pulling the parchment from the bag, he saw on it a hastily scribbled heart shape in red ink.  He smiled and returned it to the pouch. Delilah was only eight, two years younger than him, and she was already wiser than she knew. He wished he could thank her for the reminder that he was loved.  It was easy to forget. 

Now aware of how tired his body was, worn from the long carriage ride and emotional labor.  Nathaniel flopped down across his bed with a huff, eyes drooping from sleep as his breathing slowed. Just as he was about to drift off, he heard a rustling noise from somewhere in the room.  He sat up sharply and listened more closely. It sounded as if it were under his bed. His heart pounded against his chest, but he wasn’t afraid, no. There were no such things as monsters under the bed.  Nothing was going to hurt him. 

Hopping up from the bed he  crouched down on the floor and tilted his head to look into the dark space between the floor and bed.  He gasped when he saw pair of big, dark eyes looking back at him, surrounded by a mane of curly hair. It was a girl, or at least something that looked incredibly like a girl. 

“Hi,” her tiny voice whispered, as she crawled forward. Nathaniel blinked in shock, not quite sure the proper way to greet a girl from under the bed. “I’m Elissa.” 

“Elissa.” He hesitated, still examining her to make sure she was really just a girl and not some secret monstrous beast that absolutely did not exist and he had no reason to be scared about. 

“You can call me Liss though,” she said with a bright smile still short a few grown-up teeth. “I like it better, anyway.” 

“Okay,” Nathaniel muttered, not sure what to think of this Liss person, “I’m Nathaniel.”

“Nathaniel! Wow, that’s such a pretty name,” Liss squeaked, “Are you the Howe boy?”

He offered a slow nod in response.

“Papa told me you’d be staying with us… and that I shouldn’t bother you.”  She laughed nervously. “I didn’t know this was your room. Oops.”

He began to ask her why she was under his bed, but footsteps echoed down the hallway, causing Liss to gasp and press her pointer finger against Nathaniel’s mouth with a “Shh!”  She slid back under the bed, leaving Nathaniel sitting on the floor in stunned silence. He stood abruptly at the sound of a knock at the door. 

“Y-yes?”

“Sorry to bother you, Nathaniel,” a man’s voice said as the door creaked open.  It was the teyrn, “I am looking for my girl. Her mother is going to be very cross with her if she doesn’t come to bed.”

Nathaniel panicked.  He had no desire to get Liss in trouble.  He didn’t know what that would mean for her.  At home, if he or his siblings had broken the rules, it was never pleasant.  Still, he did not wish to lie to the man who had been kind enough to open his home to Nathaniel, especially not so soon after getting there. He braced himself to reveal her hiding spot, but as he did so, giggles erupted from beneath the bed. 

A good-natured smile crossed the teyrn’s face as he gave Nathaniel another wink. “It looks like we’re going to have to get you a new bed.  I don’t think they’re supposed to laugh. What do you think?”

The teyrn’s lack of anger over the situation eased Nathaniel’s concern for Liss, and he braved a response.  “I’ve never seen a laughing bed before, ser. I think it would be hard to sleep on.”

“Hmm.” The teyrn stroked his chin, “That’s a good point.  That won’t do at all.” He knelt down by the bed, reaching underneath, provoking more laughter. “I think it might be ticklish, Nathaniel.”

He reached further to grab hold of Liss, and pull her from her hiding place, scooping her up into his arms as he did so.  She struggled against him, squirming and laughing, but she was too small against her father’s embrace. 

“Looks like you just had a little monster under there after all,” he said to Nathaniel before turning his attention to Liss, “Elissa Odette, what am I going to do with you?  You’re giving your poor mother fits.”

Liss laughed briefly, but quieted herself, her face becoming more serious, “Sorry Papa.  I’m just not sleepy.” She yawned as she spoke. 

“You sure about that, pup?” 

“Okay maybe just a little.” Another yawn and she rubbed her eyes. 

“Say goodnight to Nathaniel,” the teyrn instructed, “Maybe you two can play together tomorrow.”

“Goodnight Nate,” Liss said, waving at him from her father’s arms.  A smile curled at Nathaniel’s lips. His mother called him Nate too, and so did Delilah. He liked it. 

“Goodnight Liss,” he replied as the teyrn carried the girl out of the room and gently shut the door behind them.  


	3. Forgiveness and Fresh Air

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a meeting with Queen Anora, Elissa remains in Denerim as Fergus returns to Highever to begin his service as the Teyrn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter has some mention of trauma symptoms, including flashbacks and nightmares. Please take care of yourselves!

_**Denerim, 9:31 Dragon** _

A year ago, if someone had told Liss that she would be one of only two surviving members of the Cousland family she would have laughed at them.  Couslands were strong and unbreakable, well-loved by the Ferelden people. Nobody should have wanted them dead, especially not a long-time ally like Rendon Howe.  

Liss had awoken in the middle of the night to a knock at her door. One of her guards injured, eyes wide with panic had frantically warned her that the castle was under attack, just before he was run through by a man wearing armor adorned with the brown bear crest of the Howe family. The next clear memory of that night came with the image of her nephew’s tiny little body lifeless on the floor next to his mother’s.

It was an image that haunted her nightmares and caused  her to wake up gasping for air, her heart beating so violently that it shook her entire body. She had been given charge of the castle for one single night, and she had not even been able to protect her brother’s wife and son, nevermind the rest of the castle’s occupants or her parents.

Liss’ parents were the reason she made it out of that castle alive, both injured and choosing to stay behind to hold off Howe’s men and give her time to escape.  At first she had refused, wishing to die alongside them instead, but they asked her to live on for them as she couldn’t refuse. She narrowly escaped, clad in only her nightgown with an ugly iron broadsword in her hands.  It wasn’t even her own sword, but one she had looted from one of the fallen castle guards.

She was not certain how she survived after that, other than by sheer force of will, and determination to see that bastard Rendon Howe punished for his crimes.  She had never liked him anyway. His own family was too good for him, or so she thought. She hoped and prayed to the Maker and Andraste and any other deities that would listen that this was Rendon’s doing alone.

Liss had sought refuge at a small farm on the outskirts of Highever, with a kind elderly couple who had taken her in. She put on her best Marcher accent and told them she was the wife of a traveling merchant from Kirkwall, whose caravan had been ambushed on the way home.  She said she was the only survivor. It was only partially a lie.

The couple provided her with a hot bath, a change of clothes, and a bed for the following few weeks as she healed from her wounds.  In all of the chaos, she had not realized she had taken several significant blows to her body, with particularly serious injuries to her left forearm and shoulder blade.  They were both long, deep gashes that bled a lot, and would have become infected had it not been for her hosts’ diligent care. Even still, she knew they were going to leave scars.

News of a massacre at Ostagar had caused a secondary wave of grief to course through her.  Teyrn Loghain betrayed the King and Howe, the snake, was at his side and granted the Arling of Denerim.  Perhaps he’d murdered the Kendalls family as well. It was as if it were bloody Antiva. She had thought Fergus dead, too.  As soon as she was able, and against the kind couple’s pleas for her to stay, Liss had set out to Denerim. Someone in the capital would hear her, even if it meant her death.  She would make them listen.

“Sis?” A voice beside her pulled her attention from painful memories, and into the present. To Denerim, where she and her brother stood in the throne room of the Royal Palace, awaiting an audience with Queen Anora.  “You all right?”

Liss followed Fergus’ gaze down to her hands, clenched into fists, white knuckles at her side.  Inhaling deeply she relaxed the muscles and offered him a weak smile. “I’m fine.”

“ _Elissa.”_

 _“Fergus,”_ she mimicked his intonation, pretending she had no sense of the insistence behind his voice.  He eyed her knowingly and scowled. “See, you don’t like it either.”

Fergus opened his mouth as if to argue, but was interrupted by the thumping steps of palace guards, who marched in and lined the hall, preceding the Queen’s entrance.  Instead, he sighed, shook his head, and straightened his posture. Liss followed suit.

Anora approached them without hesitation, hands behind her back and chin high.  There was a sadness in her eyes that did not match the poise and confidence with which she walked.  It was a sadness that Liss didn’t remember. Anora had visited Highever on several occasions throughout the years. Obligatory meetings between teyrns brought Liss and Fergus to meet the future Queen’s acquaintance.  Anora was one of the smartest people she knew, and she was grateful that she had not been complicit to her father’s actions, nor to Howe’s. In the days since the Grey Wardens has defeated the archdemon, Anora had worked tirelessly with the nobility to restore order.

It had been a shock to all at first when the scions of the Cousland family attended the landsmeet to denounce Loghain for allowing the atrocities that Howe committed. They were late, too, as the Hero of Ferelden had already killed Howe and won the Landsmeet with Anora’s support.  

Still, their voices were welcomed, and the queen had asked for a private audience with them to discuss reparations. Nothing could bring back her family, but Liss was grateful it wasn’t being labeled a wartime casualty and swept under a rug with everything else.

“Thank you for agreeing to meet with me,” Anora said as she approached them.

“It is an honor, Your Majesty,” Fergus answered, bowing formally.  Liss fought the urge to roll her eyes, but knew that her brother was only following social protocol.  She offered a polite bow herself.

“I was not able to appropriately express my sorrow for your loss before.  I have known your family as long as I can remember, and I cannot think of anyone less deserving of such tragedy.” Anora’s voice wavered as she spoke,  finally hitching in her throat. “I wish that there had been more I could have done to stop it, that I could have seen through my father and Howe before it was too late.”

“It isn’t your fault,” Liss blurted before thinking, internally cursing herself for the informality.  Thankfully, Anora didn’t seem to mind.

“Not directly, no.” She offered a bitter smile. “However, with Howe dead and my father imprisoned, the guilt is now mine to carry.  I am your queen just as I was Cailan’s, and I failed to protect you just as I failed him.”

They stood in poignant silence for several moments before anyone ventured to speak.

Fergus stepped forward slightly. “We have all suffered losses, Your Majesty.  We are sorry for yours as well.”

“There was no way anyone could have known this would happen,” Liss added, fists clenched at her sides again.  The queen had no reason to blame herself. “Teyrn Loghain was a hero. We owe our freedom in part to him. Howe fought alongside my father in the rebellion, allies, friends even.  This treachery belongs to them, and as far as I am concerned, it ends with them.”

“Thank you both.” She nodded, inhaled deeply, and straightened her posture.  It must have been difficult for her to remain so poised and dignified amidst such grief.  “Even so, your family is owed a debt. I know nothing can change what happened, but I would see to it that I do what I can.”

The queen paused and smiled, moving her gaze from Elissa to Fergus.  “First, I am restoring ownership of Highever to the Cousland family. It has been under the care of crown since Howe died, however, the Teyrnir is rightfully yours, Fergus, if you will have it.”

“Of course, Your Majesty,” Fergus muttered, his voice hoarse.  For all his confidence and all the preparation he had done for this very moment, Fergus looked scared.  Elissa figured it wasn’t leadership that scared her brother, rather it was returning home to an empty bed.  The last time he had been in Highever he had a wife and a son. He had not truly had to face their deaths until now.

“Additionally, in the process of rebuilding Denerim and repairing the fragile ties among the nobility in Ferelden, I have developed a small, private council to guide my decisions in the days to come.  It is composed of members who represent parties who were most affected by the civil war and the Blight. I have no intention of repeating mistakes of the past. I think it is important for your family’s voice to be among those in my council.”  Anora’s eyes found Liss’, an unspoken offer.

“Me?”  Liss did not consider herself important enough to have the queen’s ear, especially not after everything that happened. “Your Majesty, I am flattered, but I don’t know that I am the right person.”

“Yes, you,” Anora answered, laughter in her voice, “You forget that we have been acquainted since we were children.  I know you to be one of the finest diplomatic and military minds in this country. If you are willing, I would like for you to remain in Denerim.  Your expertise and experiences will be an asset in restoring and improving our home.”

“It would be an honor.” Liss shifted her weight and looked toward Fergus who winked, one of the many things he did that reminded her of their father.

“Very well, then.  It is decided.” Anora exclaimed, clasping her hands in front of her.  There was a brief moment of silence before she continued. “If there are no further matters to discuss, then I will take my leave.  I am certain that you two have things to discuss before you part ways.”

Liss and Fergus bowed as Anora turned to exit the room, her contingent of guards following behind her.  Liss watched in admiration as the queen walked away, still stunned by the entire exchange. She had gone from losing everything to being a member of Anora’s council in the matter of a year.  It was dizzying. The prospect of separating from Fergus after having only been together for a few weeks upset her, but she knew that he needed to go home, and that she needed to stay. It was the right thing to do.  Even so, she worried about him returning to Highever alone.

She placed a hand on his shoulder and turned to face him directly. “Are you going to be alright?”

He sighed, looking at the floor beneath them.  “It will be difficult, but I’ll manage.”

“Are you sure?”

“I have to be sure.”  His words were decisive as he returned his gaze to hers, filled with sad determination. “It’s what Mother and Father would have wanted, what Oriana would have wanted.  Maybe it will bring me some closure.”

“Fergus, I’m -.”

“Don’t,” Fergus interrupted, “No more apologies. Okay?”

“Okay.”  Liss fought with the tears that brimmed in her eyes, steeling herself so that her brother couldn’t see how close she was to falling apart again.  

“That’s my girl,” he said just as father would have done, “I am so proud of you, sis.  I know that Mother and Father would be, too.”

Fergus wrapped his arms around her and squeezed her tightly into an embrace, which she returned eagerly.  

“Promise me you’ll write,” Liss insisted, as she pulled back, still holding on to his arms.

“You have my word.”

It was not long after Fergus left that a servant arrived to show Liss to her room.  It was spacious, larger than she needed, with bed that could have fit at least five people - not that she would want five people in her bed.  There was a personal bath, a desk and several bookshelves, and dressers that were already filled with clothing in her size. It seemed Anora had done her best to make Liss feel at home, and with some success.  It had been a long time since she had been comfortable enough to truly feel the exhaustion in her bones. She lay down atop the coverlet, not even taking time to change into night clothes.

Sleep came quickly, and ended just as quickly, with flashes of images from the night her family was murdered.  Oren’s tiny little body, the screaming, pools of blood, the strong scent of iron in the air. She awoke to her own screams, heart racing,  suffocating under the weight of her memories. Luckily for her, it was not a new occurrence, and she was able to slow her breathing and ease the anxiety before it crippled her.  

However, she knew that going back to sleep was not an option.  She had woken up from these nightmares enough to know that it took time for her body and mind to ease enough to sleep again.  Hoping to get some fresh air and clear her head of the painful thoughts, she grabbed a cloak from the dresser and left her room, making her way to the courtyard. It would be quiet at night, and she would be free to feel her own emotions.

The air was slightly too cold for her liking, teeth chattering as the wind nipped at her cheeks and nose.  Despite her discomfort, she found the courtyard ideal, ferns and flowers illuminated only by moonlight. She wondered how the plants survived the frost that coated them each night, the hardy little things.  Closing her eyes, she inhaled deeply and allowed her muscles to lose their tension.

The calm lasted only briefly, as she heard a rustle in the grass behind her and footsteps approaching.  She turned on her heels abruptly, balling her hand into a fist, and jabbing forcefully in the direction of the noise.  A man’s voice yelped in pain, and there was a thud as the figure, now in focus, fell to the ground. Liss moved to restrain the potential attacker, sitting atop him with her fist at the ready.  

“No no no!  Please don’t hit me again, I bruise easily,” the man, whose features Liss could now see more clearly, pleaded.

He was a young man with sandy hair, brown skin, and dark hazel eyes wide with shock and perhaps pain at the punch she had landed against his torso.  He did not appear to be armed, or dangerous for that matter. Then again, she knew better than to let her guard down.

“Who are you,” she demanded, fist still at the ready, “And why were you sneaking around in the courtyard?”

“My name is Alistair,” he answered nervously, “I had come outside for some air, as one does, and I noticed that someone else was out here.  I, uh…well I was hoping not to alarm you. I guess we see how well that worked out.”

“Alistair?” The name sounded familiar, and she stood up and stepped back as she realized who the young man was, “The Alistair?  King Maric’s son? The Grey Warden who helped stop the Blight? That Alistair?”

He stood up and dusted the dirt from his pants.  “The one and only.” He grimaced as he attempted to straighten up his posture, massaging the place on his abdomen where Liss’ fist had fallen. “Maker, that hurt.  Who are you, anyway? Do you always go around attacking people?”

“I’m Elissa Cousland, and I’m so, _so_ sorry,” she laughed nervously, bringing her hands to her face to hide the embarrassment.  “I just couldn’t sleep, so I came outside for a walk. I heard footsteps, and I thought - well… I don’t know what I thought.  It’s been a long year, and I’m a little on edge.”

“I’ll say,” he said pointedly, before flashing a grin, “I think it’s safe to say we’re all a little on edge, what with the war and the Blight.  Better to punch first, ask questions later, huh?”

“I suppose,” Liss answered, still laughing at herself, “Though it’s probably not the best way to make friends.”

“I don’t know.  Depends on how forgiving the person you punched is.”  Alistair raised his brows and shrugged.

“Are you a forgiving person?”

“Too forgiving, if I’m honest,” he answered with a laugh.

“Good to know.” Liss nodded, darting her eyes around the courtyard uncomfortably.  “Well, I should probably… get back to my quarters.” She turned to walk away, but paused mid-step as she heard Alistair speak again.

“Um, Lady Cousland.  You said you couldn’t sleep, right?”

“Mhm.”

“I can’t either.  It happens a lot these days.”  His previously cheerful eyes darkened, and his thoughts seemed to drift somewhere else entirely.  “But, I have learned the best place to go when I can’t seem to turn my mind off. Want me to show you?”

Liss thought for a moment, genuinely stunned by the offer from this man she just met, and who probably had a bruised rib because of her.  “Um, okay. Sure.”

“Great.  This way.”  He motioned for her to follow him through the courtyard and to a small flight of stairs that led up into the battlements.  

“Alistair,” she called after him, causing him to turn and look back at her, “You can call me Liss, by the way.”

“Liss,” he repeated, a warm grin spreading across his face, “I like it.”


	4. A Tiny Prayer for Mama

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Liss is determined to make that grumpy Howe boy her friend, but she isn't prepared for what that entails.

_**Highever, 9:15 Dragon** _

Liss had made a new friend, or at least she was bound and determined to make that quiet, grumpy Howe boy her friend.  Nathaniel — or Nate, as she had decided to call him — seemed much less interested in the notion, however. In fact, he didn’t seem interested in much at all, especially not normal things that kids should be interested in.  He had been staying in Highever for over a month now, and she had never seen him play, not a single time. He just attended lessons, read books, and followed Fergus around like he was a sad, little puppy. Liss didn’t understand why anyone would want to follow Fergus around.  He smelled like sweat and old cheese.

Papa told her she wasn’t to bother him, but she didn’t think that encouraging him to act like a normal kid was the same as “bothering.”  Nate did not seem to mind it much whenever she left her lessons early and sought him out. While he was never really excited when she dragged him outside to the gardens and enlisted him in her search for the perfect flowers to braid into a crown,  to play games, or even just to hide from Aldous behind some of the bushes, he didn’t complain. The only time Nate got annoyed with her was when she tried to make him wear the flower crown she had so artfully crafted. As soon as the white petals touched his pretty black hair, he blushed and took it off, handing it back to her forcefully.  She tried to remember not to do that again.

Liss had once again persuaded her way out of Aldous’ lecture, this time by reciting the entire tale of Flemeth and Bann Conobar from memory when he asked if she’d even paid attention.  Little did he know she had read several different versions of the tale -- multiple times. She did not need to attend to his instruction, especially when he couldn’t even pronounce the names properly.  She was only eight and she knew that it was Oh-sen, not Ah-sen. Obviously defeated, the man had grumbled about “Bryce’s know-it-all children,” thrown his hands up in frustration, and told her she was free to go.  Thrilled she did not have to sneak away this time, she skipped out of the room and into the open air.

She didn’t make it far as she had hoped before she felt a tug at her arm drawing her abruptly to a halt.  She spun to face the person holding her arm only to see Fergus towering over her with his eyebrows raised.

“Skipping again?” He spoke in a gentle kind of way that he always did when he wasn’t really serious.  “You’re going to get in trouble.”

“Aldous let me go, I promise.”

“That’s what you said last time.”

“Please don’t tell Papa, Fergus.’  She clasped her hands together and pouted, earning her an eye roll and a hair tousle.

“Your secret’s safe with me, sis,”  Fergus answered with a smile, making Liss feel a twinge of guilt for thinking he was smelly.  Just a twinge.

Liss nodded and turned to continue her traipse toward the  courtyard, but Fergus called after her. “If you’re looking for Nathaniel, he’s out at the archery range.”

“Okay,” she chirped and took off running toward the castle gates.  The targets were lined up just inside the walls, where guards sometimes practiced.  There were no guards around at the moment, leaving the area empty and quiet.

Nate stood at the far end, several feet away from a target that was nestled in a corner.  She didn’t understand his affinity for small, secluded spaces, but she didn’t plan on pointing it out to him.  Several arrows already protruded from the target, close to the center, but not quite a bullseye.

Liss watched as he took another dull, training arrow from the quiver, line it up on the bow across his finger, and aim carefully as he drew back the string.  His eyebrows pressed together as he released the string, sending the arrow flying toward the target and landing directly in the middle. The corner of Nate’s lips quirked up at the hit, quickly turning into a grin that spread across his face.  It even lit up his eyes.

“Wow,” Liss exclaimed, causing Nate to jump and dart his head in her direction.  His smile fell briefly and then returned when he realized it was her.

“Did you see that?” He motioned toward the target with his thumb as he walked toward her. “I’ve never done that before.”

“That was _amazing_ ,” Liss said excitedly, “Mama tried to teach Fergus to shoot like that, but he’s better with a sword.  How did you learn to do that?”

Nate shrugged. “I just practiced.”

“Can you show me?”

“You want to learn how to use a bow?” He blinked in disbelief.  “Are you allowed? Father never lets Delilah use weapons. Says it’s not something girls should do.”

“That’s silly.” Liss was indignant, puffing out her chest and turning her nose up.  “Papa says girls can do anything that boys can.”

“Right...sorry.  I’ll show you.” He motioned for her to follow him, moving to stand in front of one of the targets.  She ran after him giddily, eager for the chance to learn something new. Nate placed the bow in her hands and walked forward to retrieve the arrows from the target.  It was heavier than she expected, coarse wood rough in her palms. He returned with the arrows in hand and extended one out to her. “I never got why Delilah wasn’t allowed.  She’d be good at it.”

Liss took the arrow and stared awkwardly between it and the bow, unsure how to hold either, before looking up at Nate helplessly.   He laughed, taking her shoulders and squaring her up with the target. “Which hand do you write with?”

She raised her right hand and wiggled her fingers.

“You want to hold the bow in your left hand, then,” he explained, “And line your left shoulder up with the target when you aim.”  

“Like this?”

“Mhm,” Nate said with a nod, “Make sure your feet are far enough apart that you can balance.  Do you know what to do with the arrow now?”

Liss nodded in response,  hooking the end of the arrow on the string and lining it up with her finger, just as she had seen her mother and Nate do.

“Right!   Now you just shoot it.”

The bowstring was more difficult to pull back than she intended, and her arms shook as she attempted to aim.  Her posture failed her, and when she released the arrow, it soared directly into the ground. Her cheeks grew hot with embarrassment, and she expected to find Nate laughing at her when she turned to face him, but he wasn’t.  He only smiled gently and handed her another arrow. Fergus would have laughed at her.

“It’s harder than it looks,” he said, moving to stand behind her, lining her shoulders up again and holding her in place as she drew back the string and released the arrow.  It wasn’t a great shot, a bit too high, but it struck and sunk into the very top edge of the target.

“Oh,” Liss said, bewildered as she turned to face her friend, “I did it!  Thank you!” She threw her arms around him in an excited embrace. He stiffened, but didn't push her away.

“It’s-,” Nate began to reply, but he paused, blinking in the direction of the door to the castle’s main hall.  Liss turned to figure out what had caused him to stop, only to see her father standing a few feet away, smiling as he always did.  For a moment she worried that he would be cross that she was not in her lessons again, but he did not seem to realize she wasn’t where she was supposed to be.

“Good work, kids,” he remarked cheerfully as he moved closer to them, tousling Liss’ hair as Fergus had done and giving Nate a pat on the shoulder. Despite his typically happy appearance, something was wrong.  He had a heaviness in his eyes she wasn’t used to seeing, and his hand lingered on Nate’s shoulder as he addressed her. “Pup, I need to speak to Nathaniel for a bit. Why don’t you go find Fergus and the two of you get washed up for dinner?”

“But Papa, I-.” She wanted to stay with Nate, and practice shooting more.  She didn’t know why she couldn’t hear what Papa had to say, too.

“Elissa.”  His tone was serious, and she knew she needed to do as he said without protest this time.  She offered an apologetic smile to Nate, whose eyes had widened with worry, as she ran off to find her brother.  

It took awhile to find Fergus, who had been down in the kennels with the Mabari trainers and breeders.  His latest fixation was to have one of the puppies bond with him; however, he had no luck so far. Papa warned him that the more he tried to force a bond, the less likely it was to happen.  Fergus didn’t listen, though, and stubbornly went down to the basement each day to pester the dogs. She hoped it would happen for him soon, for his sake and for the dogs’.

“I shot a bow,” she told him proudly as they walked up the stairs to their rooms.

“Get a bullseye?”

“No, but I hit the target once.” She beamed, as she spoke. “Nate helped me.”

“Good on him,” Fergus said, a chuckle at the end of his words, “Maybe he can help me, too. Get mum to stop lecturing me about it.”  

After washing up and changing into a different dress, one that was not covered in dirty paw prints from being in the kennels, Liss joined her family in the dining room for the evening meal.  Her parents and Fergus were already seated, awaiting her arrival. Looking across the table, she frowned when she didn’t see Nate, his usual seat empty and unset. She turned her gaze to her father, who just shook his head, somberly.

“Where’s Nate?”  She pulled out her chair and sat down at the table that was nearly too tall for her.  “Is he okay?”

Her parents exchanged glances and nodded at one another before looking back toward Liss and Fergus.  

“Sweetheart,” her mother began, voice quivering as she spoke, “Nathaniel received some really sad news from home.  He didn’t feel like coming to dinner today.”

“Sad news,” Fergus repeated, “What kind of sad news?”  

“Apparently Nathaniel’s mother has been very sick for some time now,” her father said, “I don’t know if he told either of you.  I know that it is not something Rendon has ever mentioned.”

Liss and Fergus both shook their heads.  She remembered him talking about his father, sister, and brother, but not once since he had been in Highever could she remember him saying anything about his mother.  Especially not anything about her being sick.

“Is she okay,” Liss asked, scooting her chair out and standing up again, hands on the table.

“She died, pup.”  Her father frowned as he spoke, “Last week, actually.  The letter just arrived today. The poor lad wasn’t even able to go to her funeral, to say goodbye.”

“Bryce,” her mother said pointedly, laying a soothing arm on his shoulder.  Liss didn’t understand the exchange, but it upset her to see her father so clearly bothered.  He almost seemed angry.

“Is...Nate okay?” Liss was still standing, fists now clenched at her side.

“No, but he will be,” her father told her softly, “He asked if he could stay in his room instead of come to dinner.  I think he wants to be alone.”

Liss didn’t even ask to be excused before she took off running out of the dining hall, up the stairs in the corridor, and toward Nate’s room. She ignored her parents calls for her to come back, thinking about how she might feel if her mother were to die.  It made her so sad she could hardly stand it and she couldn’t even imagine what Nate was feeling. She knew her father was right and that he probably wanted to be by himself, but she was his friend, and she couldn’t just leave him all alone. If he told her to go away, she would, but she at least had to try.  

When she reached the door to his bedroom, she pressed her ear against the elaborately carved wood, but wasn’t able to hear anything.  She knocked, and when there was no answer, she let herself in, turning the knob and pushing the door open gently. She scanned the room, which was illuminated by a lone sconce on the wall, only to find Nate sitting on the floor in a far corner of the room, his back against the wall.  He traced the edges of a small, golden ring with his fingertips, staring at the ground. When he heard the door creak open, despite Liss’ attempts to be quiet, he looked up at her with swollen, tear-reddened eyes.

“Liss?”  His voice was hoarse, and barely more than a whisper.  

“Mama and Papa told me what happened,” she explained as she moved closer, sitting down next to him, “I’m really sorry.”

He said nothing in response, instead just closing his eyes and letting his head droop.  Large tears rolled down his cheeks and dripped from his chin, and she didn’t know what to do.  She’d never seen a boy cry before, and she was at a loss for how to make him feel better.

“I can go if you want me to,” she said softly, “Papa said you might want to be al-.”

“No,” Nate choked out, urgently, “Stay. Please stay.”

Unsure what else to do, she leaned over and put an arm around his shoulder.  In a swift, unexpected movement, he turned to wrap his arms around her in a desperate hug, his face buried into her shoulder so that she could feel the warm tears as they fell.  He wept and trembled against her and she put her other arm around him, reaching up to pat his head with her hand. It was just as Mama did when she was upset. She wondered if Nate’s mama had held him like this, too, but that made her sad, and sympathetic tears burned in her eyes before dropping to her cheeks.  

“I’m so so sorry, Nate,” she said, squeezing him more tightly, “I’m sorry.”

She held him for a long while, until his breathing slowed and became more even, his grip on her relaxing, his shaky body finally resting, as he fell asleep against her.  She guessed he had worn himself out, and she was glad to see him at peace. She was only slightly bothered that she was now stuck, unable to move him and not wanting to wake him up.

She was relieved when the door creaked open, and she looked up to see her parents standing there, framed by the light from the hallway.  Her father frowned, eyebrows furrowed as her mother brought a hand to her mouth. Nate didn’t hear them, and they both entered quietly. Her father hurried over to pick up Nate, carrying him to his bed and tucking him in under the heavy covers.  Her mother, noticing Liss’ own tears, rushed to her side and held her, much as she had held her friend just moments before.

“It’s so sad, Mama,” she mumbled into the the woman’s gown.

“I know, sweetheart,” she soothed, pressing a kiss against Liss’ hair, “I know.”

“My girl, you did a good thing tonight,” her father said as he knelt to join them.  “But you must be exhausted. How about we get you to bed?”

Liss nodded, still sniffling.  Tonight, she welcomed bedtime, comforted as she was carried to bed by her mother, who was still alive.  She said a tiny prayer before she fell asleep that the Maker would take care of Nate’s mother, and that he wouldn’t take her own, not for a very, very long time.


	5. Alive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now a Grey Warden, Nathaniel soon learns that it is impossible for him to dislike everything much less than he wants to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: If you’re triggered by animal death, read this chapter carefully, and take care.

_**Vigil's Keep,**   **9:31 Dragon**_

Nathaniel did not loathe being a Grey Warden entirely as much as he had expected, although, that wasn’t saying much considering that he’d initially asked for death instead.  When he’d awoken after his Joining, nauseous, head pounding, but otherwise alive and unscathed, he was disappointed. After all, what reason did he have to live when his family was dead and he, disgraced?  

Now, he was indebted to the Grey Wardens and their commander, Lucia.  He wasn’t sure whether he should thank her, or resent her. However, the bitter taste in his mouth suggested the latter.  It reminded him of the darkspawn blood he drank, and he shuddered as he recalled the cold, sickening feeling that had overwhelmed him.  He wondered if that ever went away.

It felt more like hours than days, as time had flown in the process of clearing out the darkspawn from the Vigil.  It unsettled Nathaniel to walk the halls of his own home as a stranger, to see barracks and armories where bedrooms used to be.  Occasionally, flashes of faces of those he once knew crossed his mind, and he wondered at their fate. Standing in the dank basement dungeon, surrounded by dead darkspawn and charred remains, it wasn’t hard to guess.  

“Andraste’s arse, that stench,” exclaimed Anders, one of the other Wardens, a mage whose flippancy did him a disservice.  He covered his mouth and nose with the crook of his arm. 

“What? You never smell a pile o’ dead bodies before,” Oghren, prodded with a low gravelly voice.  The dwarf had about as many manners as a boar’s backside, but he generally meant well. He sniffed the air deeply, and laughed. “What do you think, Commander? Squeamish?”

“It only smells a little worse than you,” she stated, expression flat as she continued to look about the room intently, “I’m used to it.”

Oghren laughed again, unbothered by the less than flattering remark.  He turned to look at Nathaniel. “Holding up alright over there, Howe?” 

The question caught Nathaniel off guard, as he had not expected the dwarf to check on him, or anyone for that matter.  The bodies were just bodies to them, but to Nathaniel they could be people he knew. Friends, family members, even. He still didn’t know what became of Delilah and Thomas.  Were they among the dead here? Had they fled during the Blight? The thought of his little brother and sister being slaughtered in their own home sickened him more than the odor that filled the basement.  

Nathaniel opened his mouth to answer when the sound of a dog, whimpering in pain, filled the room.  In the far corner, Lucia knelt by the limp form of a young Mabari. He walked over to them and knelt down beside her.  The hound had several deep wounds from darkspawn teeth and claws, infected and festering. It appeared to be corrupted and close to death. 

Lucia turned to him, her piercing eyes brimming with tears, though she fought to hide them.  “We can’t save her, can we?” 

Nathaniel shook his head, somberly, “I am no healer, but those wounds -.”

“Anders,” she shouted desperately. 

Anders, who _ was  _ a healer,  approached and examined the dog, before shaking his head as well. “I’m sorry, Luce,” he said with a degree of informality that baffled Nathaniel, “Even if I could heal the wounds… she’s been exposed to darkspawn blood, and that is beyond my expertise.” 

“Better to put her out of her misery,” Oghren added, “Give ‘er a quick death.”

“Damn it,” she hissed, closing her eyes, brows pressing together as she inhaled a shaky breath.  She pulled a dagger from her belt, and held it in her hand, the blade trembling despite her effort to keep it steady.  She let the blade hover over the hound for a few moments before dropping it to her side, “I can’t do it. I can’t.” 

Her grief was puzzling.  It was impossible to believe that this woman, unable to bring herself to kill a hound out of mercy,  could be the same ruthless, power-hungry tyrant Nathaniel expected her to be. How could someone who seemed so gentle and practical murder his father in cold blood? It was one of a few things he had learned in the days since his Joining that did not quite add up.  

He shook his head and picked up her dagger that lay beside him.  “I’ll take care of it.” 

Lucia looked at him, stunned at his offer.  He couldn’t blame her, as he had done little in the past few days that did not suggest he hated her.  Still, she nodded and stood, walking over to Anders, who placed a hand on her shoulder. 

Nathaniel held the dagger tightly, his own shaky hand betraying him.  As a trained assassin, it should have been a simple matter. He knew the exact place to stab, to assure an instant, painless death.  Yet his confidence wavered. Mabari were highly intelligent, and this one was barely more than a pup. It felt uncomfortably close to what he imagined it would be like to kill a child.  He understood his commander’s struggle. 

The dog whimpered again, and he reached out to pet her head with his free hand, careful not to touch any of the wounds.  “Shh,” he soothed her “You’ve been such a brave girl fighting off these darkspawn.”

The Mabari calmed,  her little tail wagging weakly behind her, and a pang of guilt surged through Nathaniel’s chest.  He continued to pet and comfort her, until he sank the blade into her with one clean motion. When she fell limp immediately,  he exhaled his relief and wiped the blood from the dagger. It was then that he noticed a small scroll of paper attached to the dog’s collar.  He tugged it free and stood with the scroll and dagger in hand. He could hardly believe his eyes as he opened the note and read the hastily scrawled words.  

“Adria,” he muttered under his breath, and his heart leaped with excitement.  Someone he knew might be alive after all. He returned Lucia’s dagger to her and showed her the note.

Offering him a slight smile of thanks,  she nodded and put the dagger back into her belt, before turning her attention to the note.  “Do you know this person, Nathaniel?” Her voice was weak, emotions clearly still raw. 

“Yes,” Nathaniel answered quickly, eager to find the woman who wrote the note, “Adria was… like a mother to me, once my own mother passed.  We have to help her.”

“If there’s a _ her _ left to help,” Anders stated dryly.

“ _ Anders _ ,” Lucia scolded, darting her eyes toward the mage, before turning back to address Nathaniel, “We’ll do what we can.” 

Nathaniel could hear the doubt in her voice as she headed toward the steps that led to the lower levels of the Keep, but he appreciated her thoughtful response, and followed after her.  

The lower floors opened up into a cavern Nathaniel could not ever remember seeing, not that he had been allowed the run of the entire Keep when he lived there.  At the far edge of the room, near a stone blockade stood a cluster of hurlocks, and in the middle of them, a woman. 

“Adria,” Nathaniel called out and she turned around slowly, her posture slouched.  Her face was that of the woman he once knew, now marked and deformed by patches of corruption, her eyes milky white and hollow. “Adria… no.”  He turned to the commander and the others. “There must be something we can do, some way to-.”

Adria interrupted him with a ghoulish scream, and rushed forward, followed closely by the darkspawn. Nathaniel cursed, readied his bow, and nocked an arrow.

“I hate to say I told you so, but...” 

“ _ Anders _ ,” Lucia scolded again, this time more harshly.  “Nathaniel, I’m sorry, but there’s nothing we can do.”  She took out one of the hurlocks with her broadsword, and cast a wave of ice toward another. Oghren then promptly shattered it with his axe. 

“I understand,” Nathaniel answered, drawing his  bowstring back. He took aim at the monster with Adria’s face, yet he couldn’t bring himself to release the arrow.  He stood frozen for several moments before relenting, turning to shoot the last hurlock. His arrow hit the creature right between the eyes.  He nocked another arrow and made a second attempt at Adria, but his hands shook, and the arrow missed the mark. 

Adria lunged at Lucia, clawing at her with black, corrupted fingernails.  The commander offered Nathaniel and apologetic glance before running her sword through the ghoulish woman. 

“Sorry,” he said, looking down at the dirty floor beneath his feet, “I froze.”

“I noticed,” she replied as she attempted to catch her breath,  “I wish we had gotten to her sooner. Are you going to be okay?”

“I will be,” he sighed.  He should have known better than to expect Adria to be alive, after all.  “I think I need some air.”

“Go ahead, we can finish things up down here.”

“Thank you, Commander.”

When Nathaniel finally exited the basement, reaching the crisp air of the open courtyard, he headed directly for the makeshift archery ranges set up in a grassy corner of the area.  Filled with nervous and angry energy, he knew he needed a distraction, something to focus on intently and forget the horrible state of his life at present. As long as he could remember, shooting had been his release, his escape, and even now after several hours of battling darkspawn, he wished nothing more than to practice his bowmanship. 

Time passed quickly while he stood alone firing off arrow after arrow, each one hitting the target, mostly clustered toward the center, with a few straying further away. His younger self would be proud.  Retrieving the arrows from the target, Nathaniel noticed that the light had begun to fade against the horizon, the chill in the air becoming colder with each passing minute. It was nearly time to turn in for the evening. 

“There you are,” a voice rang out behind him, causing him to flinch.  He turned to see the Lucia standing before him, her nose reddened by the cold. She appeared to be holding something behind her back.  “When I couldn’t find you inside, I thought you might be here.”

“Am I that obvious.” He crossed his arms, both annoyed at her observation, and amused.

“Not particularly,” she said with a shrug, “I just pay attention.  It’s good to learn those you work with, the sooner the better.”

“Smart.” He laughed, despite himself.  He couldn’t pretend to despise her anymore. Not after everything that happened. “Is there something you needed?”

“”Yes, actually.”  She pulled a large, ornately carved wooden bow from behind her back, and extended it out toward Nathaniel.  “I found this while we were cleaning up in the basement. I thought it might be of interest to you.”

“Is this what I think it is?”  He took the bow in his hands, tracing the carvings with his fingertips. “It is.  This is the Howe family crest, right here.” He pointed to the image of the bear carved into the wood.  “It belonged to my grandfather, or at least he was the last one to use it. It was crafted for an ancestor long before that.”

“It’s beautiful,” she remarked, a small smile at the corners of her mouth, “It’s such a shame that it sat in storage for so long, collecting dust.”

“I found it once, when I was just a boy, and used it to practice.  Father was furious, and took it from me. Hid it away, I suppose. This is the first time I have seen it since.”  Nathaniel’s chest swelled with a mixture of emotion the bow’s memory brought. He was glad it had not been destroyed after all.  “I don’t know what to say. This is… thank you.” He brought his gaze up to meet the Lucia’s.

“I’m glad I was able to return it to you,” she said politely before looking down, and kicking at the grass with the toe of her boot.  When she looked up at him again, a pensive expression had crossed her face. “I actually wanted to thank you, as well, for what you did earlier, helping that Mabari.  I couldn’t bring myself to kill her, even though I knew it was the kindest thing to do. You must think me weak.”

“Not at all,” Nathaniel assured, surprised by her willingness to speak so candidly, “Compassion is not a weakness, Commander.”  

“That is… good to hear.”  She breathed in deeply and sighed, as if relieved.  “And Adria, are you-.”

“I’m alright.  I should never have gotten my hopes up,”  he admitted, “ I’ve lost so much, I was just hoping that one person may have survived.  Just one. I suppose that is too much to ask.”

Lucia opened her mouth to respond, but  she was interrupted by a man’s voice, calling out as he waved and moved in closer to them.  It was an elderly elven man, dressed in worn breeches and a dirty, linen shirt. 

“Nathaniel Howe?  Nate? Is that you,” the man shouted, excitedly.  As he came closer into view, Nathaniel could see his features, kind and familiar.  “By the Maker, it is! I’d recognize that face anywhere.”

“Groundskeeper Samuel?”  Nathaniel rushed to meet him.  “You survived!”

“I’m tougher than I look, son,” the man snapped, playfully. 

“Tell me Sam, do you know how my brother died? My sister?  I have heard nothing of them since I returned from the Free Marches.”

“Thomas died in the Battle at Ostagar, fighting in the King’s Army, the poor lad.”  Sam shook his head, and Nathaniel’s stomach churned. It was one thing to think his brother to be dead, but another thing entirely to have it confirmed.  It comforted him to know that Thomas had at least died honorably, fighting in the name of Ferelden’s leadership. 

“Your sister, well,” Sam continued, “Lady Delilah’s not dead, Nate, at least as far as I know.  Last I heard she was living in Amaranthine, married to a merchant in town.”

“Are you serious?” Nathaniel was so overcome with relief he nearly cried. “Delilah’s alive?”

“Aye.”

“Thank you, Sam.  It is good to see you.”

“Don’t mention it.  It is good to see you, too, son.”  The elf smiled, and gave Nathaniel a rough pat on the shoulder.  “Don’t be a stranger.” 

Nathaniel’s mind buzzed, torn between so many emotions.  It was difficult for him to truly mourn Adria and Thomas, when he was so overwhelmed with joy and relief that his sister was alive, and married no less.  Sweet Delilah, who had always endured his needless teasing, and who understood more than anyone else his conflicted feelings toward their father. He clutched at her ring that he wore around his neck before turning to face Lucia, whose eyebrows were raised with curiosity. 

“My sister is… alive,” he finally spoke, stunned laughter lacing his words, “ I was beginning to wonder if it was possible for good things to happen to me anymore.”

“That’s wonderful news, Nathaniel.”  

“I know that we are busy, but do you think we will have time for me to pay a visit to my sister?”  His own groveling annoyed him, and he wasn’t even sure if it was necessary. It wasn’t as if Lucia were the heartless Warden-Commander of his imagination.  No, she had surprised him in plenty of ways in such a short period of time. He was not afraid to ask for a favor. 

She seemed to sense his apprehension, offering him a warm smile and a nod. “Sure.  We will make time if we have to.” 

Nathaniel breathed out a sigh of relief and thanked her, again.    
  



	6. "N"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a year after his mother's death, Nathaniel is not enjoying his summer very much. Liss enlists the help of her older brother to cheer him up.

_**Highever, 9:16 Dragon** _

It had been just over a year since Nathaniel’s mother had passed.  It was the worst year of his life, and he hated everything. Everything.  It was only fair, since everything hated him, too. Without Mother’s calming influence, Father had become even more critical and dismissive, but that was only when he was present.  Much of the time, he left children in the care of servants and tutors claiming to have no patience for their misbehavior. Honestly, Nathaniel preferred it that way. At least with Adria and the others, he was free to act like a child. He was free to play and cry and he didn’t have to worry of father would be disappointed because he never saw it happen.

He’d also been relieved to learn he would be spending the summer in Highever again.  The Cousland family was kind and —more importantly — whole. They talked to him with soft voices, and made their home feel like his own, only better.  He wasn’t sure that he deserved them, or anything for that matter. He was a poor example of a Fereldan boy, sensitive, moody and unable to control it most of the time.  He must have seemed like the most ungrateful guest in the world, but he just wanted to be alone. The more they tried to include him, to reach out, the more angry he became that his own family couldn’t be the same way. It felt so broken all the time.

He just wished Liss would leave him alone.  It wasn’t that he didn’t like her. In fact, he liked her a lot.  Warm, caring, and incessantly friendly, the girl had become a friend to him, one of the only he could ever remember having.  He’d actually become closer to her than he had to Fergus, despite what father intended, and he was glad to know her. But she wouldn’t let him be miserable in peace.

It was difficult to tell what time it was without any windows in his room. It could have been early morning or the middle of the night and he would not have been able to tell the difference; however, from the bustle of footsteps and echoes of conversation in the hallway, he figured it was mid-morning.  He knew he should be up. He should be out practicing archery, or attending lessons, but he just felt like lying there, coverlet pulled up over his head.

A light succession of knocks against his door meant that lying there for the entire day wasn’t an option.  He slid out of bed, bare feet touching the cold stone floor, and stomped clumsily to the door, pulling it open abruptly, as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

“Liss, I told you I don’t feel like-,” he began, but as his eyes adjusted to the new light, he looked up to see Fergus towering above him, rather than Liss.  He wore an amused grin and Nathaniel’s face burned hot. “Sorry, it’s usually Liss knocking.”

“Not today,” Fergus said with a shrug, “She’s in big trouble.”

“What’d she do this time?” Nathaniel had learned not to be alarmed by “big trouble” in the Cousland household, as it meant something entirely different than “big trouble” at home.  Liss was probably somewhere cleaning up a mess she made, or completing an extra hour of lessons. Fair consequences for misbehavior, which the girl seemed to do a lot of.

“Let one of the Mabari into the larder.  The way Nan looked at her… she got such a scolding.” Fergus laughed jovially at his sister’s misfortune.  “You’re lucky it was me and not her, the way you answered that door. She’s small, but she hits like some twice her size. Look.” He rolled up his sleeve to reveal a circular bruise on his arm.  

“Liss did that?”

“She did.”

“Why?” Nathaniel tore his eyes from the dark patch of skin and turned them back to the the other boy’s face.

Fergus chuckled and tugged his sleeve back down.  “Well, when she got in trouble, she made me promise to come check on you for her.  So I told her I’d make sure her boyfriend was all right. Don’t think she liked that very much.”

Heat rushed to his face again, despite how he tried to remain unfazed.  It wasn’t true of course, but to deny it aggressively in that moment would only imply that it was—and it wasn’t. “Your nine-year-old sister hit you hard enough to bruise?”

“Two things you need to know about my sister, Nate,” Fergus said, holding up two fingers, “One, she can kick your arse. Two, she will.  So don’t mess with her if you’re not prepared.” He walked into Nathaniel’s room and sat down in the chair by the desk, long legs outstretched as if it were his own room.

“Why would I want to mess with her?”

“It’s fun,” he remarked cheerfully, “Don’t you ever tease Delilah?”

“No, and it’s not fun.  It’s mean.” Nathaniel recalled the time when he took Delilah’s favorite doll, ripped the arms off, and hid them around their home so she couldn’t find them.  In his mind, she had earned it. After all, she put beetles in his bed. Still, the girl had cried for hours and hours. It was not exactly his definition of fun.

“You don’t know what you’re missing.” Fergus leaned back so that the chair was on its hind two legs, precariously close to tipping over.  Father would have scolded Nathaniel for doing something like that.

“Guess not,” Nathaniel replied with a huff, watching as the other boy nearly fell backward in the chair.  He waved his arms desperately before grabbing the desk in front of him to stabilize himself. “Anyway, you’ve checked on me.  You can tell Liss I’m okay.”

Fergus shook his head vigorously. “You can’t just stay up here all summer.”

“You’re not the boss of me.”

“Maybe not, but I’m twice as big as you, and will carry you outside to get some air if I have to.” He raised his eyebrows.  Even sitting down. He was intimidating with his large hands and voice that was starting to deepen.

Nathaniel sighed and relented. “Fine.”

“Thought you’d come around,” Fergus said, standing up and tousling  his hair before ushering him out of the room with a firm grip on his shoulder.  Nathaniel was suddenly grateful to be the oldest of his siblings. To say this kind of thing was annoying would have been an understatement.  

The two boys walked through the hallway, down a flight of stairs, and outside to the courtyard.  It was a sunny day, and warm, even for the middle of summer. Nathaniel hated to admit it, but he already felt lighter.  He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, the scent of blooming flowers and wet grass filling his nose.

A shriek rang out from behind him, and he tensed, opened his eyes, and glanced over his shoulder just in time to see a mass of curly blond hair in a dress hurtling toward him at full speed.  Liss crashed into him, throwing her arms around his neck. Try as he might to remain standing, the shock of the impact knocked him off balance, sending them both hurtling to the ground. Nathaniel could hear Fergus’ delighted laughter in the background.

“Liss, I thought you were in trouble,” he grunted as he rose up on his elbows.  She lay on his back, arms still tightly clasped around him.

“I was,” she mumbled into his back, “But I snuck away when I saw you walking with Fergus.”

“Won’t you just get in more trouble later?”

“Nan’ll have to find me first,” she said with a giggle, and then nuzzled her face into his back again, “I’m so happy to see you outside, Nate.”

Nathaniel felt his face get hot yet again, as he recalled Fergus’ presence. He’d never live this one down.  Not only had he been tackled by the small, impish little girl, but she was also being affectionate in a way that would warrant later teasing.  

“Um,” he said, trying his very best not to be mean to his friend, “Could you get off of me, please?”

“Oh, right. Sorry,” she answered, sounding a bit embarrassed herself as she hopped to her feet. Nathaniel pushed himself up and stood to face her and her brother.  She had several bits of grass in her hair and the brightest smile on her face.

“Thank you,” he said, his eyes darting to Fergus, whose grin revealed the dimples in his cheeks. Nathaniel wanted to punch him.

“Well, sis, now that I got him outside for you, I’ll leave you two lovebirds alone.” Fergus tousled her hair and she scowled at him, jutting an elbow up into his side causing him to yelp. “Ow! You’re mean, you know that? See if I ever help you again.”  He threw up his hands and walked away.

Nathaniel kicked at the grass under his feet, ruminating on the ground as Fergus walked away.  It was dumb to be so embarrassed by the other boy’s antics, and yet he still was.

“Fergus thinks he’s so big because he’s got a deep voice now,” Liss fussed crossing her arms, “He doesn’t scare me.”

“No, you’re definitely the scary one.” Nathaniel laughed nervously.

Liss flashed another mischievous grin. “Papa thinks so too.  Says I get it after Mama.”

“Your mother’s scary?”

“She used to be a pirate!”

“Woah.”

“Mhm.”

Liss closed the distance between them and reached up grab his face in her hands, squishing his cheeks together so that his mouth puckered. “I’m happy you came outside, grumpy.”

“You said that already,” Nathaniel mumbled, struggling to speak through the pressure against his jaws, “And I’m not grumpy.”

“Are so,” Liss said removing her hands from his face and sticking out her tongue. “Unless this,” she furrowed her brows, scrunched her nose, and pouted, “Means you’re happy.”

“I’m sorry, I just don’t feel like playing.”

A warm pressure surrounded his hand, and he looked down to see her tiny fingers wrapped around his.  He looked back up to meet her gaze, and she offered him a soft smile.

“It’s not that,” she assured him, “It just makes me sad when you’re sad, Nate. That’s all.”

He squeezed her hand in return, an acknowledgment of the sentiment that he couldn’t figure out how to respond to in words, and the stood there in silence for several moments before Liss tugged at his hand. “C’mon, I want to show you something.”

Nathaniel followed her, hand-in-hand to the edge of the courtyard where he sometimes practiced with a bow.

“Close your eyes,” she instructed, and he did so.  She released his hand and there was a shuffling and clacking sound, followed by footsteps as she returned. “Okay, open them.”

He blinked a few times, looking first at her face and then down to her hands.  In one hand, she held a dark wooden bow carved with the Couslands’ laurel branches.  In the other, was a matching quiver of arrows with an “N” carved onto the front.

“Papa and Mama wanted you to have your own to use here,” Liss explained, “I did, too.  We thought it might make you feel better, at least just a little.”

Nathaniel found himself fighting to hold back tears as he took the bow and quiver from her and examined them carefully.  It was the nicest gift he could ever remember receiving, and it was for no reason at all, no special occasion that involved gift giving.  The Couslands had just done this for him because they cared, and he was overwhelmed with so many feelings he couldn’t even process them all.

“I… thank you,” he stammered, “This is, just, thank you so much.”  

“So you like them?” Liss asked, hands behind her back, eyes glittering with excitement.

“I love them,” he replied with a nod.

She opened her mouth to speak, but was interrupted as the shrill voice of an elderly woman called out from the opposite side of the courtyard near the door to the main hall.  

“Elissa Odette!” Nan stood at the top of the steps, hands cupped around her mouth so that her voice carried.  It wasn’t really necessary, though, her voice was loud enough as it was.

Liss’ eyes widened and she grabbed Nathaniel’s wrist.  “We have to go,” she whispered as she pulled him along behind her and into a cluster of bushes that lined that courtyard wall.  Twigs and leaves scratched at his face as he fell through them, his hip colliding roughly with the ground. He looked over at Liss, who giggled silently, her hand over her mouth. 

“Lissy, I know you’re out here,” the woman scolded, sounding as if she had gotten closer, “Fergus just told me you were out here talking to that Howe boy.  Maker help me, when I find you, you’ll be scrubbing pots for days. Your father has already agreed to it.”

There was a rustle in the bushes, and a ray of sunlight peeked through, shining directly onto the two of them.  Nathaniel looked up to see Nan hovering over them, scowl etched into the lines on her face. She glanced between him and Liss before taking them both by the arm and pulling them up out of the brush.  She was stronger than he would have expected.

“What am I going to do with you,” she spat as she fussed over Liss’ hair, “First you let that bloody mongrel into my larder and then you run away before you finished cleaning up the mess.  This is no way for a young lady to behave.”

“And Nathaniel, dear,” she said more softly as she turned to face him.  He tensed and prepared for a tongue-lashing of his own. “This girl is a bad influence.  She is a naughty, ill-behaved child, and will do nothing but get you into trouble.” He nodded but darted his eyes to Liss who could barely contain her laughter.

“I’m sorry Nan,” she said sweetly, “Nate hasn’t been feeling well and I just wanted to make sure he was okay.  I’ll wash as many pots as you want me to.” Liss batted her eyelashes at the woman, who scoffed in return.

“You bet you will,” she retorted as she took Liss by the arm, just above the elbow, and turned to escort her back to the castle.  

“See you later, Nate,” she shouted as they walked away, turning over her shoulder to wave at him. “Feel better!”

He chuckled softly and waved back to her, before returning to the bow and arrows that dropped to the ground in the rush to hide.  He picked them up to examine them more closely, tracing the engravings with the tip of his index finger. His chest swelled and the tears he held back before fell freely now.  He really did love them - the gifts and the family who gave them to him.

Fixing his stance, he nocked an arrow, took aim, pulled back the string and released.

It was a bullseye.


	7. The Beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Liss and Alistair make a routine trip to the market that is anything but routine.

_**Denerim, 9:31 Dragon** _

It had only been a month since Liss arrived at the capital, yet it felt more and more like home each passing day.  Perhaps it was simply that she had little time to think about how she wasn’t in Highever. After all, Ferelden was recovering from a Blight, and the beginnings of a civil war which still brewed beneath the surface.  Tensions were high in the Landsmeet, and higher still outside of it. The Queen was a stable and calming influence, but she could only do so much to quell bad blood among the nobility. Betrayal upon betrayal made it difficult to trust. She imagined how hard it would be to repair an alliance between the Couslands and Howes after what had happened.  

A smile crossed her lips as she fanned through a stack of death records on the desk before her.  She’d thought about it a lot actually, the dissonance between her past and present was an uncomfortable friction that threatened to drive her mad.  She couldn’t bring herself to believe that anyone in the family but Rendon would be capable of such atrocities, even if she knew it was very well a possibility.  Blood did run thick in Ferelden. 

She scanned the top page of impossibly small script, searching for the names of those she knew.  Of course the nobility were listed, her parents names, Oriana, Oren. She thanked the Maker the scribe who’d written the documents took care to alphabetize them. As is the case with most wars, the list of casualties among the wealthy and powerful was small.  It was the common folk who suffered, soldiers, innocents. Turning the page, she continued down the list, stopping cold with a short gasp as her eyes locked on a name she’d hoped not to see, “Howe, Thomas” written neatly below his father’s. It appeared that the young man served in the King’s Army at Ostagar, and was presumed dead.  At least he’d died on the right side, Liss assured herself despite the ache in her chest. At least it wasn’t Nathaniel.

She did not have time to become too consumed with her thoughts, as there was a knock at her door, an impulsive  and erratic succession of taps that did not stop until she answered. 

“You can come in Ali,” she said cheerfully, blotting at the corners of her eyes with her sleeves hoping to hide the tears.  The knocking stopped and the door jiggled in its frame.

“Um, no I can’t,” he shouted, voice muffled by the wood, “Unless, of course you’d like me to bash it down, but I don’t think Queen Anora would like that. Neither would my shoulder, for that matter.”

“Oh.” She shot up, and rushed to the door she hadn’t remembered locking.  Unfastening the locks she pulled it open gingerly. Alistair leaned casually against the wall near the door, turning his head to look at her. “Sorry about that.  Come in.” She motioned him in with her hand. 

“You’ve been busy, I see,” he remarked, squinting to examine the papers on her desk, “Death records?”

“Just some… light reading”, she said with a laugh.

Alistair picked up the documents and thumbed through them, shaking his head.  He set them back down without saying a word, but his haunted expression and the crease in his brow spoke volumes. He’d been at Ostagar, too, she remembered, lost his comrades. She should not have been so inconsiderate as to only mourn for herself. 

“So,” Liss said, breaking the heavy silence, “What’d you need? I’m sure you didn’t come here so that we could be sad sacks together. Or maybe you did! In that case, feel free to carry on.”

A smile stretched across his lips, a beautiful, crooked smile that one expected to see on roguish characters from all the tales — thieves, assassins, and bards, but never a former almost-Templar.  It was too mischievous, too blatantly unrefined. Then again, that’s what she liked most about her new friend. He was a real person, and he wasn’t shy about it. The fact that his smile was genuine was the most attractive thing about him.

“I, uh,” he said, chuckling as if her statement had caught him off guard, “No. Actually.  I came here to see if you wanted to come to the market with me. I’m going to take my weapon to the blacksmith.  There’s a nasty crack in the blade.”

“You want company to go to the blacksmith?”

“What can I say,” he laughed, “You have such an uplifting presence, my lady.”

“Uh-huh,” she replied skeptically, “And the real reason?”

“I don’t like the new blacksmith,” he answered sheepishly, kicking at the floor with the toe of his boot. “Don’t get me wrong, Wade was… eccentric, but I knew what to expect.  This new one… she’s…” He shuddered. 

“You’re afraid of the new smith!” She grinned at him, which made him fidget even more. “You want me to rough her up for you?”

“Maker’s Breath, no. She’s twice your size and all muscle,” he explained.

“Sounds like my kind of woman,” Liss said with a wink. “Maybe she’ll rough me up a little.”

“This was a bad idea,” he sighed, bringing his hand to his face. “I’d just rather not be alone while she’s leering at me like I’m her next meal.”

Liss opened her mouth to speak, but Alistair interjected.  “If you say that you wouldn’t mind being her next meal, I’m going to throw myself into the forge when we get there.”

“That‘s dramatic.” She offered him her best scowl, despite the grin twitching at the corners of her mouth. 

“It’s warranted,” he replied with a shrug, “Anyway, do you want to come, or not?”

“Yes, I think I could use a break.”  Liss stepped forward and looped her arm through his, causing Alistair to stiffen, muscles tightening at her touch. She pulled away, immediately embarrassed by her accidental disregard for boundaries. “I’m so sorry. That was thoughtless of me.”

“No need to apologize,” he assured her with a laugh that didn’t quite mask his discomfort, “I’m just jumpy, that’s all.” 

“Are you sure?”

“Of course,” he said with a nod, offering his arm to her again, “Shall we?”

Smiling, she accepted, and they walked side by side, arm in arm out of the castle and to the Market District.

The center square of the market, in its typical fashion, bustled with the activities of merchants and shoppers.  It was late-afternoon and vendors stood at kiosks announcing their wares to anyone who’d listen. Women with Orlesian accents attempted to pull Liss aside to sell her floral-scented perfumes and hair products.  When she declined, they spoke to each other in their native tongue, commenting on her appearance.

“Si vous étiez plus gentilles, peut-être auriez-vous plus de clients,” Liss remarked pointedly.  It caused a satisfying look of stunned horror from the women.

“I didn’t know you spoke Orlesian.”Alistair raised his eyebrows, obviously amused. “I only know a few words in Antivan, but I don’t think I should say them I polite company.  What was that about?”

“They called me fat and unrefined,” she answered nonchalantly, loud enough for the women to hear, “For people who claim to be so cultured, they certainly have poor manners.”

Alistair stalled and turned abruptly to face her, taking her shoulders in his hands. “That’s what they said to you?” His brow was furrowed deeply, a frown forming on his lips. 

“‘Mhmm.”

“They’re wrong,” he said with a measure of decisiveness in his voice.  “You know that right?”

“Don’t worry. It takes a lot more than a couple of insults to get to me.” She smiled, and reached up to tousle his hair, causing him to scowl and pull away from her to smooth it back down.

“Hey, easy with the hair,” he grumbled,  “You’re lucky I like you.”

His scowl softened into a smile as their eyes met, lingering on one another for longer than typical, long enough that her heart fluttered and heat crawled to her cheeks.  Alistair must have felt the same, as he darted his eyes away quickly, straightened his posture, and cleared his throat. Liss looked toward the ground to hide her smile. His embarrassment was endearing, but she didn’t want to make him self-conscious about it. 

“So,” she said, interrupting the silence, “Blacksmith?”

“Maker, yes,” Alistair answered, “I mean, not that this was... I mean. Damn, words.”

“Blacksmith,” Liss said again, a statement rather than a question.  She grabbed his hand and pulled him behind her.

Much had changed about the smithy since Master Wade and Herren departed.  The shop was tidy and organized, each of the materials having their own place, each weapon and piece of armor sorted.  It even smelled better, or perhaps she was just imagining that it smelled better. 

As Alistair had mentioned, a woman stood at the forge, dark skin glistening with sweat in the firelight.  She was beautiful, with brown eyes and muscular arms. She was intimidating, sure, but not in the way she’d figured.  She had no harsh features, nor even an expression that elicited fear. She was simply quiet and good at what she did. 

“Ah, Warden Alistair, back again” the smith said looking up at them. She had a bright smile and the unmistakable Antivan accent.“You are hard on your equipment. It is almost if you are damaging your things on purpose.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Alistair protested, crossing his arms, “Why would I do that?” 

“To have a reason to see me, of course.” She flashed another grin and Alistair spluttered.  The smith laughed and turned her attention to Liss. “Your friend is easy to fluster, Lady Cousland.  I wonder, are all Ferledan people so finicky?”

“Just the men,” Liss answered playfully, gently elbowing Alistair before crossing her arms, “How did you know my name?”

“I know many things,” the smith answered as if it were as simple as that.  

“Right, well, I feel at an incredible disadvantage.  You know my name, but I know nothing about you, except that you are a blacksmith.”

“My name is Bria, my lady.” The woman seemed genuinely touched that Liss cared to ask her name.  “It is an honor to finally meet you.”

“Finally?”

“Alistair here has spoken a great deal about you.”

Liss felt the heat in her face again as she looked between Bria and Alistair helplessly.  Alistair, in an atypical manner for himself, did not seem bothered by the comment. Instead he smiled that crooked smile.  What did he know that she didn’t? 

“It seems it is not just the men after all.” Bria chuckled and sat her hammer down moving to reach for something behind the counter.  When she straightened up, she held a broadsword in her hands. The handle was white gold with delicate laurel branch filigree. She extended it toward Liss.

“Is this,” Liss began, the words catching in her throat as tears bubbled in her eyes.  She took the sword in her hands, tracing the laurel branch patterns with her thumb before pulling it from its sheath to examine the blade.  It sparkled in the warm light of the smithy. The entire blade was new and in better shape than she remembered, but it was unmistakable nonetheless. 

Liss returned the sword to its sheath and held it across her palms as if it were sacred.  It  _ was _ sacred.  The sword was one her father had commissioned as a gift for her eighteenth birthday.  She assumed it to to be lost or destroyed after Rendon Howe’s forces seized the castle.  She told herself it was gone along with her family, yet there she stood holding her treasured sword in her hands once again. She struggled to form coherent thoughts, let alone words.

“This is mine.” She finally managed to force words past the lump in her throat. “Where? How?”

Alistair smiled in a way that made his eyes squint slightly.  “Howe, actually. The sword was among the Arl’s personal belongings left in his estate here in Denerim.  Queen Anora said she thought it belonged to your family, but it was in poor shape. I didn’t want to return a broken sword to you, so I brought it to Bria.  I hope you don’t mind.”

Unable to contain them further, tears dropped from Liss’ eyes and rolled down her cheeks as her grip tightened around the sword. 

“You’re upset,” Alistair said apologetically, reaching out to touch her shoulder.  “I should have just-.”

“I’m not upset,” Liss interrupted abruptly, shaking her head and looking up to meet his gaze, then over toward Bria. “I’m just… speechless.  Thank you both.”

“It is a beautiful sword,” Bria replied, “It was my pleasure.”

Alistair just nodded.  

It turned out that his reason for the trip to the smithy was not entirely false.  He actually did have a crack in his sword, and Bria really did terrify him despite their friendly rapport.  She was kind enough, but there was something unsettling about her. It was as if she did not belong in a smithy.  She was too smart, too charismatic, and overall too well-adjusted. Then again, perhaps she was just Antivan. They always seemed to have their lives together even when they didn’t. Living in a country run by a guild of assassins would require that a person be adaptable, she figured. 

It was a quiet return trip to the castle, all the words that could have been spoken between Alistair and herself felt too personal to speak in the open air of the Denerim streets. She wasn’t certain how to take his affectionate gestures.  He was very charming, enough to catch her attention, yet when she returned the sentiment he froze up. It was almost as if he didn’t realize he was flirting at all. What an interesting man he was, and she knew so very little about his life prior to his time since the Blight. He did not talk about the Hero of Ferelden or the war, none of it. Not ever.  

As they reached the gates, Alistair, true to his typical evening ritual stopped to speak with the guard at the door.

“Any messages for me today,” he asked as he always did.

“No,” said the guard, annoyed at the unnecessary question.

For the first time Liss saw his expression change at the news, from hopeful to despairing.  He tried to hide it behind his smile, but his eyes were sad. He quieted and looked as if he might cry at any moment.  It surprised her that she never noticed before. Then again, she’d never thought to pay attention before.

As they entered the gates and through the courtyard toward one of the doors that led to the guest rooms, Liss gathered the courage to prod at Alistair a little, to ask him to open up just a bit. 

“Who are you waiting on a message from?” She turned her head slightly to glance at him from the corner of her eye. The lines in his forehead and brow deepened at the question, before he laughed and painted on a smile. 

“Nobody, I’m just being responsible,” he answered.  It was amazing to watch him hide every ounce of grief she had seen in his face only moments before.  He was quite adept. “You know, you should check your messages more. You never know who might try to get in touch with you.”

“First of all,” she said, holding up her index finger in emphasis, “They deliver our messages directly to our rooms.  We don’t have to check.”

Alistair opened his mouth as if he intended to defend himself, but Liss held up another finger and continued to speak. “Second of all, I know what it’s like to wait for letters that don’t come, and if you would rather talk about it than hold it all in until you explode, I’m here for you.”

“You have enough to worry about without me whining over things that aren’t important.”

“Alistair,” she reached forward to lay a hand on his arm.  “Anything that causes you this much pain isn’t unimportant.  We’re friends. Let me be a friend.”

He inhaled a long shaky breath and stared off into the distance. “Alright… but I’m going to need a drink.  You probably will, too for that matter, to put up with the grown man crying on your shoulder.”

“I doubt that,” Liss smiled her reassurance. “But I have an entire bottle of rum under my bed.”

“Do I even want to ask why you hoard alcohol under your bed? Are you a dragon?”

“It helps with the nightmares… well, it helps me go back to sleep after the nightmares.”

“Oh, right.” Alistair fidgeted uncomfortably. 

Liss and Alistair walked to her room, where she crawled under her bed to retrieve the large glass bottle.  It was much harder to even squeeze an arm under there than it was as a child when she hid from Papa before bed every night. Taking hold of the bottle, she stood up, popped open the cork, and took a swig before passing it to Alistair who looked stunned by the whole affair. 

“Don’t be shy,” she laughed and moved to sit at the table in the corner, motioning for him to sit across from her.  He took a drink and followed, flopping down in the chair, buckling from the weight of his own feelings. 

“Where do I even start?” He pinched the bridge of his nose.

“The beginning, if you’re up for it.” She placed her hand on his forearm.  

He sighed, leaned forward and took another drink.  “Fine. Just remember that you asked.” 


	8. Vultures

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Young Liss is not fond of the way the world works.

_**Highever, 9:17  Dragon** _

“Lady Elissa, are you sure this is all right?”  The girl’s large, green eyes were wide with worry as she scanned the room around them. “Mamae says I’ll get in trouble if I leave the servants’ quarters.”

“Don’t be silly, Rila,” Liss said with a giggle, taking the other girl by the hand, “I won’t let you get in trouble.” 

“If you say so, milady,” Rila answered, bowing her head but smiling.  Her skin was dark and her ears pointed like knives, but Liss wasn’t supposed to say so, even if she meant it as a compliment.  Papa said that a lot of humans in Ferelden, Orlais, and other places thought they were better than the elves and used mean slurs to put them down.  He told her that he expected his children to be better than that. She couldn’t imagine ever wanting to say something mean to Rila, or why anyone else would. 

Liss led her friend outside and to one of her favorite hiding spots in the gardens, beneath willow trees where few people thought to look for her.  It was sunny and warm, especially for Ferelden, so the shade of the trees served as a comfort as well as concealment. Rila, despite reassurances, continued to look around them as if she expected someone to show up at any moment to punish her for daring to enter the gardens.  The elven girl moved from Denerim only a few months earlier, and Liss assumed she had simply not had time to learn that Highever was a much better place to be. 

“What shall we play,” Liss asked, her voice not quite a whisper. 

“Whatever you wish, milady,” Rila answered, eyes darting away as she spoke. 

“You don’t have to call me that, you know? ‘Milady.’” Liss smiled and squeezed the girl’s hand. “You can call me Liss, just like everyone else.”

“I… I don’t think that’s a good idea, milady.”  Her voice trembled as if she were frightened, but Liss had not done anything scary.  Or had she? 

“‘Course it is,” Liss exclaimed, “We’re friends, and you should call me by my name.”

Rila opened her mouth and prepared to speak, grin tugging at the corners of her mouth, but was interrupted by a rustling of the tree branches as they were pulled aside.  It was Liss’ mother, lips pursed tightly, brows drawn together as they always were when she was about to scold someone. 

“Elissa, darling, you’re going to miss the tournament,” she said, her eyes darting back and forth between Liss and Rila. 

“I don’t want to go, Mama,” Liss whined, “It’s not even a real tournament.  It’s just Fergus showing off against a bunch of boys smaller than him.” 

“Elissa Odette, your brother has worked hard to hone his dueling skills.  You should be proud of him.” 

“I am, but I want to play with my friend,”  Liss turned and offered a comforting smile to Rila, who looked even more terrified than before. 

“Your friend,” she answered hesitantly, “Needs to be back in the servants quarters.  I am certain that her mother is worried about her.”

“But, Mama, we just--.”

“Come, let’s take Rila back to her mother,” she stated definitively, taking Liss by the hand and offering her other hand to Rila, “You will apologize for worrying her, and then you will attend Fergus’ tournament, do you understand?”

“Yes, Mama.”  Liss pouted and hung her head. 

Rila’s mother was very grateful for her daughters return, accepting Liss’ apology before she even explained what happened.  She even seemed to suggest that it had been Rila’s fault. Liss attempted to protest, but her mother pulled her away gently.  Rila waved at her somberly before she turned to leave with her mother. 

“Mama,” Liss said as she followed along happily with her mother, “Why do Rila and her Mama act so afraid of us?”

“Because they are afraid of us,” she said, more bluntly than Liss was used to. 

“But why?”

“That’s,” she began, appearing to struggle to find words to explain, “Just how the world works.”

“The world is dumb,” Liss muttered under her breath, causing a serious look from her mother.  

The sparring ring was not too far from the gardens, a small, circular patch of dirt enclosed by a fence and surrounded by rows of wooden seats. They were used often for training, and sometimes for tournaments such as this one.  It allowed for young swordsmen to show off their prowess as they began to come of age. Liss knew she should be excited to watch her brother fight, and she was proud of him in her own way, but she also wished that she could be out there in the ring herself. 

As she and her mother drew closer,  Liss’ eyes were immediately pulled to the far side of the ring, a glimmer of dark hair catching her eyes.  Nobody told her that Nathaniel had arrived for the summer, and her heart swelled with excitement. He had grown in the time since she had last seen him, looking taller, and lankier.  Next to him was the frightening man Liss had come to learn was his father, Rendon. He sat stiffly, pale blue eyes scanning his surroundings. Flecks of grey spattered his hair and brows.  He looked like a black vulture, menacing despite his elegant posture and poise. Liss wondered how her cheerful papa had ever become friends with him. 

Still, a smile stretched across her mouth and she looked up at her mother for permission to go talk with Nate. She nodded her approval and Liss took off running  around the side of the ring and toward her friend. 

“Nate,” she shouted, throwing her arms around him as soon as she reached him. It had become somewhat of a routine for them.  She would shower him with friendly affection, and he’d return it with a grumble she knew wasn’t real. He always hugged her back. 

Except this time.  This time, he tensed up in her arms, frozen, an unmoving statue.  She released him and pulled away tilting her head and offering him a questioning look.  His blue eyes looked sad beneath stern brows and he frowned at her. 

“What’re you doing,” he asked harshly,  pulling himself from beneath her grasp. 

“I’m saying hi,” she answered.

“Then just say it,” he said, sounding annoyed with her, “You don’t have to touch me.”

“But… it’s what I always do.” Liss backed away from him, tears filling her eyes.  She held them back, not wanting to look like a baby in front of Arl Howe and everyone else present. 

“And I always hate it.” Nate darted his eyes to his father and then back to her before turning away.

“Oh.”  She didn’t know what to say to him.  Had he just been pretending to be her friend this whole time? “Sorry.”

Arl Howe chuckled and leaned forward to look at Liss, as he placed a long-fingered hand on Nate’s shoulder.  “You’ll have to forgive Nathaniel, lovely girl,” he said softly as Nate sighed, fists clenched in his lap, “The boy has no sense for manners.”

“Nate has always been polite to me, my lord,” she said with a smile, “He’s probably just having a bad day.”

“Yes, well, how very gracious of you, my lady.  You are everything your father has spoken of and more, aren’t you?” Rendon raised an eyebrow and smiled, seeming to be amused by her statement though she didn’t know why. “Perhaps I should introduce you to my Thomas someday.” 

“Thomas, Nate’s younger brother?” Liss was familiar with his siblings but did not know for certain that was who the elder Howe meant. 

“Yes.  He’s a very charismatic child, much like yourself.”

“I’d love to meet him, my lord,” she answered cheerfully, “Delilah, too! Nate has told me all about them both.”

“I’m sure  _ Nate _ has.” His words were cold and biting as a winter night, and Liss didn’t understand.  She certainly didn’t intend to ask. Vultures weren’t very nice birds. 

One of Fergus training instructors bellowed the start of the spar, and Liss rushed back toward her mother and father, sitting down between them on a row right next to the fence.  She watched, enthralled, battle after battle, boy after boy. Fergus was easily the largest and most skilled. She wondered how it was even abt fun for him without a challenge.

“Papa,” she asked, eyes still locked toward the ring, “Why are there no girls sparring today?”

“Combat is not standard instruction for ladies, pup.” He tousled her hair and pinched her cheek.

“I want to learn sword-fighting,” she said determinedly, still watching the two boys swinging wooden weapons at one another in the ring. 

“Are you sure? Wouldn’t you rather wear pretty gowns and raise children.”

Liss wasn’t sure if he was joking so she offered a defensive answer. “Mama does both.”  Her mother chuckled beside her.

“That she does, my girl.” He laughed and shook his head.  “That she does.”

“So will you let me learn to fight?” She drew her eyes away from the ring to look at her papa and bat her eyelashes. “Maybe I can be a, a knight or a Grey Warden when I get older. Like the Warriors from the stories!”

“I’ll tell you what, pup,” he said gently, “We’ll start with sword-fighting, and when you’re old enough you can decide what you want to do with your skills.”

Liss grinned excitedly, but her celebration was interrupted by a cheering of those on the benches as Fergus had bested his final opponent, and the small audience was rather more pleased than he was.  She knew her brother, knew that he wouldn’t feel he accomplished anything without a real challenge, so what he did next should not have been surprising.

Taking the sparring sword from one of his defeated opponents, he approached the fence toward the far side of the ring, pointing at Nate and saying something she could not quite make out.   Nate appeared to smile, accepted the sword and joined Fergus in the ring. 

“Oh, Bryce,” Liss’ mother hissed softly, “Tell him to stop this nonsense.  Nathaniel is half his size. He’s just going to humiliate the poor boy, and in front of Rendon at that.”

“I don’t know,” he replied, a mischievous smile at his cheeks, “Have you seen how hard that boy practices? He might be the only boy here who might prove a challenge to our Fergus.”

“He practices with a bow.”

“And he agreed to the challenge. He could have said no, Eleanor.”

Her mother protested further, but Liss didn’t hear, her attention captured by the beginning of the fight in the center of the ring.  Like her mother, she had never seen Nate train with anything but a bow, but that didn’t mean much. Who knew what sort of lessons he got at home for the better part of the year.  She crossed her fingers and prayed to Andraste that he would beat Fergus. Maybe that would make Rendon proud of him. 

Nate held the sword comfortably in his hand, and Liss heard her parents remark that they hadn’t realized “the boy” was left-handed, but she had known that for a while now.  He could shoot a bow with both hands, though, because he practiced. She figured he just wasn’t skilled enough with a sword to do that. 

At the sound of a horn, Fergus made a swift swing at Nate, who ducked swiftly and backed away.  Fergus swung again, and Nate dodged again. Liss had no idea he could move that fast. The fight carried on as such for several more minutes a constant stream of swings and dodges.  Nate had not even used his sword once. 

“Love, he fights like you,” her father laughed and looked at her mother who returned a grin.

“He’s smart.”

Liss stood and moved to the fence, grabbing the wooden planks in suspense.  Fergus was quite a bit taller than Nate, and had much more weight to him. He also had three years more experience with sparring.  It should have been an easy fight, but this was the first time she had seen Fergus struggle. At one point Nate tripped Fergus and someone in the audience shouted something about the boy fighting without honor.  She didn’t think it mattered to much of someone fought with honor, so long as they fought well. 

Eventually, Fergus got the better of her friend, catching him one too many times and knocking him off balance.  Nate was good as long as he avoided contact, but as soon as he had to block, Fergus gained the advantage and sent him hurtling toward the ground.  Both boys laughed and Fergus offered him a good-natured hand up. In the distance, Liss caught a glimpse of Rendon shaking his head and wearing a disgusted expression before getting up and wandering away.  He wouldn’t even say goodbye to his son before he left. 

After the match, Liss was free to play as she wished before supper, with the exception that she was not to “bother the little servant girl.”  She had huffed, but ultimately decided against getting either of them into trouble, returning to her hiding spot alone to braid flowers together into delicate crowns that would die before anyone wore them.  It was sad that flowers didn’t stay beautiful once they were plucked. 

Normally, she would have sought out Nate, to see if he wanted to play, but she figured he didn’t.  She tried to forget the mean words he said to her before, but she couldn’t quite shake them. She told his father that he was probably just having a bad day, but she’d never actually seen him so upset by her affection.  She’d never actually felt like he wanted nothing to do with her until today. What if he never wanted to talk to her again? 

Liss wiped away her tears with her finger tips, but they kept falling.  She wasn’t allowed to play with one of her friends, and her other friend hated her.  It was too much for her to keep in. She hugged her knees to her chest, hung her head and cried.  

A rustling of the branches drew her attention and she turned her head abruptly in the direction of the sound, expecting to see one or both of her parents coming to find her to wash up, but instead she found a familiar pair of bright blue eyes looking back at her. 

“Thought you might be here,” Nathaniel said, ducking under the branches and sitting across from her.  “Your parents are looking for you. It’s time for supper.”

She turned her face away from him so he wouldn’t see the tears. “I’m not” she sniffled despite herself “hungry.”

“Liss,” he said softly, reaching out to touch her shoulder, “Are you crying?”

“No.” She sniffled again. 

“Yes you are.” He peered around so that he could see her face. “What’s wrong?”

“What do you care?” More sniffles. “You don’t like me anyway.”

“Don’t be silly.” He grabbed her shoulder more tightly, shaking her playfully.  “Of course I like you.”

“Then why’d you act so mean earlier, huh?”  She was shouting, but she didn’t care. 

“It’s,” he signed, “It’s my father.  I’m not sure why, but he doesn’t like that we’re friends.  I just… didn’t want to make him angry, is all. I’m afraid he won’t let me come back.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”  He took a deep breath. “I’m sorry.  I should never have said those things to you.  I definitely didn’t mean them.”

“I forgive you,” she reassured him, content to know he was still her friend. 

“Thank you.”

“On one condition.” She held up a finger playfully. “You have to wear this to supper.” She picked up one of the flower wreaths and sat it atop his head.  He grumbled, but seemed to resign himself to wearing it. 

“Just this once, Liss.”  He sounded grumpy but she saw the hint of a smile on his lips.  

“You. Look. Beautiful,” she chirped, kissing him on the cheek before placing another crown on her head.  “And we match.”

It was difficult to see in the shade of the tree branches, but she was almost sure she saw a tint of pink across his face. 

“I didn’t know you could fight with swords,” Liss said cheerfully, grabbing his hand as they walked together toward the dining hall. 

“I can’t” Nate laughed, squeezing her hand in return. 

  
  



	9. Delilah

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Sings] Hey there Delilah, what's it like in Amaranthine...  
> 

**Amaranthine, 9:31 Dragon**

Amaranthine was a jewel, if jewels smelled of piss and were overrun with petty criminals.  How very little it had changed since Nathaniel last walked the streets as a child. He had once been so proud that his family owned such an esteemed city.  Now, as with most things, he realized Amaranthine was much more pleasant in his memories.

Just over a week had passed since he learned that his sister was alive and well, married to a merchant in the city.  Lucia had assured him that they would visit as soon as time allowed, but Warden business had taken them to the Wending Wood where they were captured by an unnerving talking Darkspawn and locked, half-naked in a cell in the Silverite Mines there, so they were delayed by a few days.  Nathaniel had seen more of Oghren than he’d ever be able to forget. Still, it wasn’t completely horrible, as it had earned them a new companion, a young elven woman named Velanna. He hadn’t thought it possible for someone to have a bigger chip on their shoulder than he did, but she seemed to have him beat.  Quite the accomplishment, really.

“Lighten up, gorgeous,” Anders chirped dumbly, and Nathaniel wasn’t certain if he was completely incapable of reading his audience or if he just didn’t care to.

Velanna didn’t respond, instead remaining silent and shooting him a look that might as well have been a fireball.  

“Yeesh, and here I thought the commander was the master of silent, murderous glaring.” When she still said nothing Anders threw up his hands. “Fine.  Be grumpy. You’ll fit right in with this lot.”

“Anders, focus” Lucia said calmly without turning her head, continuing to scan the crowds in front of them. “We’re looking for your contact, remember?”

“Right, sorry.” He walked more swiftly to keep up pace with her.

Nathaniel stayed behind with their new companion, studying her features as she bit her lip and looked around nervously.  She reminded him of a woman he met in the Free Marches, one who’d nearly killed him when he stumbled onto the archery range at the Grand Tourney.  She had large eyes and the same pretty markings on her face, only without the visible distress Velanna had,“I take it this is your first time in the city? It can be jarring.”

For a moment he thought she would ignore him too, but then she sighed and turned to look at him. "I've never seen so many humans in one place,” she complained, gesturing with her hands,  “Look at them...crawling, all over, like rats.”

“That is… one way to describe it,”

“You are one of them, too, you know.” Her speech was hesitant, guarded. “And of noble birth, are you not?”

“I am,” he answered, earning him a deadly look, “Your glare suggests that my presence troubles you.”

“No more than anything else in this wretched place.” She shook her head. “I am simply wondering how your kind can call yourselves ‘nobles’ at all.”

“We like irony,” he answered with a shrug he knew he would regret later, “‘Nobles’ rolls off the tongue better than ‘oppressors.’”

“Ah, so you are a funny human.”  She scowled, but he swore he saw a glimmer of amusement in her eyes.

“No, not I,” he replied irreverently, “Anders is the only fun one here, you heard him.  _I_ wouldn’t dare try to lighten your mood, my lady.”

Velanna rolled her eyes and shoved past him with a disgusted grunt of disapproval. He smirked and followed along after her and the rest of the party.

The search for Anders’ contact led them through the center of the markets, stalls set up in every direction, each selling some different type of ware.  Immediately in front of them was a weaponsmith whose freshly forged swords hung on racks, and a grocer selling cheeses and dried meats that looked more appetizing than they smelled.  Then again, it was impossible to determine whether it was the cheese he smelled or the city, not that it mattered.

“Nathaniel?” A familiar voice rang out through the crowd, drawing his attention from the grocer to a tall woman with dark hair and pale blue eyes, to his sister.

“Delilah,” he said, a smile twitching on his lips as he rushed to meet her.  He’d expected to have to search for his sister, not bump into her in the crowded marketplace.

“Nate, it really is you.” There were tears in her eyes as she wrapped her arms around him. “I’m so glad you’re alright.  I worried you might return to Ferelden and attempt to avenge our family or something else daringly stupid, to get yourself killed.”

“I intended to,” he explained, “I was captured by the Wardens before I had the chance.”

“Oh,” Delilah pulled away and examined his armor, then looked behind him toward Lucia and the others. “And you joined them, I see.”

“It was a mercy,” he explained, “I would have been executed otherwise.”

“Nathaniel Howe,” she said with a soft laugh, “A Grey Warden.  You really are just like Grandfather.”

“Father would have hated it.” He shook his head.

“It doesn’t matter what Father would have thought.”  She placed a hand on his arm. “You’re alive and at least reasonably safe, and that’s all that matters.  Come, we need to catch up.”

Nathaniel turned to Lucia to ask if they had time to spare, but the clever woman was already two steps ahead of him.  

“Visit with your sister,” she said, as if it were an order, but then smiled gently “Surely we can find Anders’ phylactery without you.”

“Thank you, Commander.”

Nathaniel nodded his gratitude to Lucia and followed Delilah into the small home behind them.  It was quaint and tidy with green plants decorating surfaces throughout, exactly what he would expect from a house that belonged to his sister… and her husband. He stiffened at the prospect of his little sister -- sweet, clever Delilah -- being a married woman now.

“Groundskeeper Samuel told me you are married,” he said, looking around the room, more to avoid eye contact than to examine the decor.  

“I am,” she answered, “His name is Albert.  You’ll have to meet him sometime.”

“Does he make you happy?”

“I adore him,” she said with a smile in her voice. “I never thought I’d get to marry for love.  I always assumed Father would wed me off to Fergus Cousland.”

Nathaniel couldn’t contain an amused snort. ”I can think of worse men to be wed off to.”

“So can I.” There was a somberness to her words he couldn’t quite place.  She shook her head, as if chasing a thought away and turned her gaze toward him. “Still, it’s so much better to have a choice.”

A long silence stretched between them filled with the weight of so much shared loss Nathaniel didn’t quite know how to address.  Thomas. Father. The family reputation. Delilah was the only person in Thedas who could understand, and yet it was so good to see her, and he was so relieved that she was happy.  He did not want to bring up the dead bodies in the room.

“Delilah, what happened while I was away,” he finally spoke, his chest tightening as he watched his sister’s joy wash from her face.

“Father happened,” she answered tersely, crossing her arms. “He destroyed our family.”

“Father got caught up in politics.  Don’t you think you’re… overstating it a bit?”

“You weren’t here.”  Delilah’s eyes pierced him like knives. “You didn’t see what he became.  He was a monster.”

“No.” He shook his head, still unable to believe it.  Father had always been strict, harsh, and unfair, but he wasn’t evil. He couldn’t have been. “I’m sure there was a—.”

“Sit down,” she instructed with a heavy sigh.

“Why?”

“Please. Just...sit.  I need to tell you something,” she said, gesturing to one of the two chairs pushed up to a small wooden table.  There was an edge to her words and Nathaniel did as he was told. Delilah sat down across from him, lips pressed into a worried line. “I had hoped you already knew, but you wouldn’t be defending Father if you did .”

“If I knew what?”  He tried to imagine the worst thing his father could possibly do, but nothing that came to mind was horrible enough to warrant his sister’s grave expression as she reached across the table and placed her hand on his.

“A few days after Thomas left for Ostagar, Father led the Howe forces to Highever, and left me in charge of the Vigil.  He said that he and Teyrn Cousland were going to march south together just as they had done during the rebellion. It had been quite sometime since I’d seen him so excited about anything.” She shook her head and laughed humorlessly, delicate fingers squeezing more tightly around his hand. “The next morning, a handful of our soldiers — five, maybe six— returned to the keep, frantic and covered in blood. They had deserted.”

“Desertion? But that’s a death sentence.  Why would they come back here of all places?”  It didn’t make sense, and he searched his sister for answers, but her gaze was fixed on the table, a hollow expression on her face.

“That’s what I asked them,” she answered with another laugh, bringing her eyes up to meet his, “They said they had been asked to do something far less honorable than desertion and figured it was worth the risk to tell me. Apparently, their commanding officers had purposely delayed their arrival to Highever on Father’s orders.  Teyrn Cousland sent Fergus ahead to Ostagar with the bulk of the Cousland forces, leaving only a small contingent of guards behind. When the Howe men reached the castle in the middle of the night…” She paused, face contorting with what looked like grief.

“What, Delilah,” he urged leaning forward, “What happened?”

“They slaughtered the entire family in their sleep,” she said, tears dripping from her eyes and down her cheeks. “

Nathaniel released her hand and sat back in his chair, in shock.  “No,” he protested, “That doesn’t make any sense. The Couslands are our closest allies.”

“Nathaniel,” she said gently.

He shook his head. “No, I don’t believe it. Father would never—.”

“Nate.” Her voice was more insistent this time, and he felt the weight of the news fall on his shoulders and settle in his chest.

“Everyone?” He knew it was a foolish question, but he had to ask.”Even —.”   _Liss._ The name caught in his throat and he couldn’t bring himself to say it out loud.

Delilah nodded somberly. “As far as I know, the only person who was not at the castle was Fergus, and… well, if he survived Ostagar, I wouldn’t know.”

Nathaniel stared straight ahead, focusing on a blank section of the wall behind Delilah’s head, so many feeling rushing through him that he couldn’t decide how to react.  When he’d learned Father had been murdered, leaving his family in ruin, he left for Ferelden as soon as he could, filled with rage and a desire to make those who destroyed his family suffer.  The Couslands were his family, too, and his father had them murdered for nothing short of callous ambition. He was conflicted, torn between holding onto the last shred of respect he had for the father he knew and blinding, white hot fury at the monster he had become.

“I never wanted anything from Father,” Nathaniel said quietly, holding back the storm that stirred inside for Delilah’s sake.  Maker knew she didn’t need her only living relative to fall apart in front of her. “Other than for him to be proud of me. I followed every rule he had and never questioned his orders.  I did everything he ever asked of me, no matter how much I disliked it. Do you know how much bloody restraint it took to not tell Elissa that I loved her?”

“You mean father is the reason you never…” She trailed off and smiled slightly.  “I always assumed you didn’t have the nerve. I should have known better.”

“I wish I hadn’t tried so hard,” he continued with a heavy sigh. “It made me miserable, and it’s not as if I ever earned his favor.  I can’t help but wonder what would have happened if I had rebelled a little, used my spine. Maybe I would have never had to leave. I could have been here, stopped Father… _something._ ”

Delilah leaned forward and took his hand again. “I know you’re sad, but please don’t blame yourself.”

“I’m not sad, Delilah,” Nathaniel snapped at his sister in a way she didn’t deserve, ripping his hand away from her and pushing his chair out from the table so forcefully that the table shook and nearly turned over, rattling the items that lay atop it, “I’m furious.”

“You can be both, Nate,” she replied quietly, calmly, and with a sympathetic expression.  He was immediately embarrassed by his behavior.

“Sorry,” he said as he repositioned the table and chair, and straightened up the items on the table. “You’re right, of course.” He sat back down, and leaned forward, resting his elbows knees and face in his hands.

It was quiet for a moment with the exception of Delilah shifting in her seat.  “Do you remember when Mother fell ill?”

“How could I forget?”

“Tom and I were inconsolable, and it was really upsetting to her.  Father didn’t know how to handle the emotions we were feeling. Knowing what I know now, I’m not sure he had the capacity to.”

“Seems unlikely.”

“You did, though.  You were always so kind and strong, cheering us up so Mother didn’t have to worry, and never showing how upset you really were.  I don’t know what we would have done without you.”

Nathaniel sat up straight and looked at his sister curiously, unsure why she had brought up the past.  “What’s this about?”

“I wasn’t able to be there for you before when we were all hurting.  My own sorrow drowned it all out.” Her eyebrows pressed together and more tears fell from her eyelashes, “But I can be now, and I will be damned if I let you bottle this all away and carry it alone.”

“I… thank you.”

Delilah stood and moved around the table to place a hand on his shoulder.  “I really am sorry. I know how much they meant to you.”

He smiled weakly and nodded, looking up at her, then doing a double take as his eyes passed her stomach.  He was not certain whether it was the angle or if he’d been too distracted to notice before, but there was a definite roundness to her abdomen that caused him to recoil.

Delilah chuckled and brought a hand to rest on her belly.  “Stop scowling. It’s rude,” she said, shoving him playfully with her other hand, “I was wondering when you’d notice.”

Nathaniel blinked a few times, standing slowly and placing his hands on her shoulders. “You’re pregnant.” It wasn’t quite a question, but it wasn’t a statement either.

“Really? I had no idea,” she offered him a mischievous smile and rolled her eyes.

“Sorry.  I...I wasn’t paying attention,” he laughed, dropping his hands from her shoulders, embarrassed, “When are you due?”

“In the spring,” she hummed, “I have about three months to go, give or take.”

“That’s soon.” He tensed and examined his sister’s face for any signs of concern or worry, but there were none, so he relaxed.  

“Mhmm.” Delilah nodded “Al and I are so happy.”

“I’m happy, too,  for both of you.”

Delilah threw her arms around him in a sudden embrace and mumbled against his chest. “I’ve missed you, Nate.”

He returned the hug, and placed a kiss on top of her head. “I missed you, too.”

Just then there was a knock at the door, soft, tentative and Delilah broke the embrace, rushing to answer it.  “Warden-Commander,” she said cheerfully, “I take it you are here to retrieve my brother?”

“Yes, my lady,”  Lucia answered just as Nathaniel arrived at the door.  She had a cut on her cheek, and blood was splattered across her armor.  Behind her, Anders and Velanna stood, both looking worse for wear than when they had departed.  Delilah stepped out from in front of the door to let him pass.

“Looks like I missed out on all the fun.”

“It was not fun,” Velanna spat.

“I thought you liked setting Templars on fire,” Anders teased.

Lucia just shook her head and ignored the bickering that then ensued.  “Are you ready to go?”

Nathaniel looked back to Delilah, who simply nodded and made him promise to return to visit her as soon as the mess with the darkspawn was over.  He gave his word, said goodbye, and left with Lucia and the others.


	10. Undue Influence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Young Nathaniel begins to realize some things about Liss, but it wouldn't be a party if good old dad didn't mess everything up.

**_Highever, 9:18 Dragon_ **

The sun beat down upon Highever from a cloudless sky, uncharacteristically hot and unrelenting for the typically mild Fereldan summer. Men and women, children, and animals accustomed to cooler weather walked about sluggishly, hoping for any sort of reprieve.  Nathaniel wiped away the beads of sweat that formed on forehead as he sat on a grassy hill that overlooked a small pond where the other children played. He didn’t actually mind the heat. 

The heat wasn’t the only thing unusual about this particular summer, as everyone at Castle Cousland busied themselves with preparation for the arrival of King Maric and Teyrn Loghain.  From what Nathaniel could gather it was to be an important meeting of powerful people that would also include several feasts, music, and other festivities. Prince Cailan and Lady Anora were to accompany them.  

For days, Liss prattled on and on and on about getting to see the Prince and his betrothed in an almost breathless way,  eyes glittering with excitement. Nathaniel wasn’t certain she actually knew what it meant to be betrothed outside the pages of her stories.  She’d read countless tales of young maidens and their arranged marriages to handsome knights with polished silverite armor and crooked smiles.  He had, after all, listened to her recount the stories at great length. He knew her favorite characters and why they were her favorites. She’d even shown him drawings she’d made of a tall, muscular-looking woman who wielded a broadsword.  According to Fergus, she’d even begun to write her own story, filling pages upon pages of a journal but never willing to talk about what she was writing. He annoyed her about it nearly every day, and nearly every day she awarded him with a scowl and a firm punch in the arm.  It was clearly very private, and Nathaniel pretended to not even know it existed. 

As he sat upon the hill, watching her splash around with Delilah and Thomas, who Father had permitted to join him in Highever this year, as well as the servant girl Liss’ parents did not like her to play with, he would have done just about anything to have her tell him the same story for the fifteenth time.  It was lonely on the hill, but he definitely could not join them in the water. Delilah or Thomas might tell Father, or worse, Father might see. He still did not understand why he wasn’t supposed to spend time with Liss. He didn’t expect he ever would. Father rarely explained his rules, but Nathaniel trusted that he knew what was best. 

“How did I know I’d find you sitting here by yourself,” a voice rang out from behind him, followed by a chuckle.  It was Fergus who joined him. He was basically a man now, taller than ever with a deep voice and the beginnings of a beard. 

“It’s kind of my thing,” Nathaniel answered with a sigh.  He didn’t want it to be his “thing.”

“I’ve seen you have a good time, Nate,” Fergus stated bluntly as he sat down on the grass beside him, “Just never when your old man is here.  What’s up with that?”

“Nothing,” Nathaniel snapped, darting his head toward the other boy who only smiled in return. 

“My sister says your father doesn’t like that you two are friends.” Fergus plucked at some blades of grass at his side, tearing them between his fingers. “Is that true, or is she just making things up, again?” 

“It’s true.” Nathaniel returned his gaze to the pond, his chest tightening as he watched Liss wrap her arms around Thomas in an attempt to pull him under the water, as she held Delilah’s hands, and as she kissed Rila’s cheek. “ I don’t know why.” 

“I think I do.”

“Really?”

Fergus nodded grimly.  “I overheard your father talking to mine.  Something about wanting to arrange for my sister to marry your brother.”

“Like a betrothal,” Nathaniel huffed, “Liss will love that.”

“Father wouldn’t have it, said that Couslands do not treat their children like property, and that he would not decide Liss’ future for her.”  He shook his head and laughed. “There was some angry shouting, and then your father stormed out of the room.”

“My father does a lot of angry shouting and storming out of rooms,” Nathaniel took a deep breath, and stared at the ground, unable to look back out at the pond or up to Fergus. “I still don’t understand what this has to do with me being close to Liss.” 

Fergus tried and failed to contain a laugh, so he ended up half-snorting as he slapped Nathaniel roughly on the back. “Well, if Liss fell in love with you, that’d get in the way of her marrying little Tom one of these days, now wouldn’t it?”

“Me? And Liss?” Nathaniel’s voice cracked as he spoke, causing him to squeak.  It’d been doing that a lot lately, and it was not helping him to sound serious or like anything other than some kind of awkward bird. He narrowed his eyes. “That’s the stupidest thing you’ve ever said, and you say a lot of stupid things.”

Fergus fell backward, cackling and holding his sides.  Had Liss not been otherwise occupied she would have punched him to make him stop, but Nathaniel preferred to wait him out. Especially since any time he opened his mouth there was a potential to incite more obnoxious laughter. “Sorry Nate,” he said between laughs, “I know you can’t help your voice but…” he trailed off, “Hey, at least by next summer, you’ll sound completely different.”

“Whatever.”

“You can impress my sister with your deep, manly voice.”  He elbowed Nathaniel in the arm. “Hmm?”

“It’s not like that, Fergus,” Nathaniel protested. “We’re just friends.  We’ll always just be friends.”

“Right, right, whatever you say,” Fergus threw his hands up, “But you sure put up with a lot of my sister’s nonsense to just be a friend.”

“I don’t put up with anything.” Nathaniel let his annoyance show in his voice, “I like Liss’ ‘nonsense.’ It’s-.” He paused, realizing the initial end of that sentence proved Fergus’ point. 

A devious grin stretched across the older boy’s face, one so similar to Liss’ that Nathaniel couldn’t hate it.  “What were you going to say? Were you going to say that you think it’s cute?”

“No.”

“You were,” Fergus shouted, “Hah! I knew it!”

Nathaniel rolled his eyes and ignored Fergus’ teasing.  Did he like Liss in a different way than just friends? Was that why watching her spend time with the others when he couldn’t join made his chest hurt. He wasn’t used to feeling so angry or resentful toward his sister and brother, but ever since they arrived, he wanted nothing more than for them to go home.  Now, with what Fergus overheard about Thomas, he wished it even more. 

He watched as Liss climbed out of the pond, dripping from head to toe, quickly averting his eyes to the ground when he realized the linens in which she swam had become translucent in the water. He’d gone swimming with her before. This was nothing new to see, but it seemed impolite now.  His heart climbed into his throat as he saw her walking in his direction from the corner of his eye. Fergus was still talking about her, and Nathaniel panicked. 

“She’s coming, shut up,” he said slapping Fergus on the arm.  Fergus looked at his sister and then back at Nathaniel, eyes sparkling with amusement. He took a breath, and opened his mouth to speak again, but Nathaniel covered it with his hand. “Shut. Up.”

Fergus raised his hands in a truce, eyes still smiling, and Nathaniel uncovered his mouth, but continued to glare at him with the most threatening expression he could muster. Not that it would stop the much larger boy from embarrassing him.  There was no force in Thedas that would do that. 

“You two are missing out on the fun,” Liss said cheerfully, plopping down on the ground beside Nathaniel.  Cool water droplets bounced from her hair with the movement, sprinkling onto his skin. 

“Don’t be silly, Sis.” Fergus’ voice was full of irony. “Nathaniel doesn’t know how to have fun.”

“Be nice.” Liss leaned over and around Nathaniel to smack her brother on the head. “You okay, Nate?” Her hand fell on Nathaniel’s shoulder and he looked up at her even though he knew he shouldn’t. His heart immediately skipped a beat and he wanted to bury his head in the dirt.  He’d never thought about her like that before. Why now? Clearly this was Fergus’ doing for mentioning it.

He just nodded and Liss gave him a disbelieving look.  She’d known him long enough to know better.

“I,” she announced, poking his cheek and letting her finger rest there, “Don’t believe you.”

His face burned hot, and he wasn’t sure if it was the actual heat or the insufferable shame he felt just being so near her now.  He turned his eyes to look at Fergus who looked as if he were about to burst, then lightly swatted Liss’ hand away. It was absent minded, an attempt to alleviate the embarrassment boiling up in him, but he knew what it meant to her. 

Nathaniel forced himself to meet her gaze, and to see the hurt expression on her face as she pulled away from him. “Liss, I - ,”

“I’m glad you’re okay,” she stated tersely, standing up and stomping away, back down to the pond where the others greeted her fondly.   He brought his hands to his face and shook his head, falling back into the grass.

“That went well,” Fergus teased.“Tell me again how you don’t like my sister.  I’m waiting.”

“Piss off,” Nathaniel muttered, voice muffled by his hands.

Nathaniel had the remainder of the afternoon and evening to ruminate. Despite Fergus forcing him to distraction by dragging him to the kennels, he couldn’t seem to get Liss off his mind. He still was not quite sure what to make of anything that happened. He had only known her for a few years, but it was impossible to remember a time when she hadn’t been a major part of his life. He honestly didn’t care to. There had been so few people who took such a vested interest in him, who truly cared.  For all that he preferred solitude, he enjoyed her company more. Even when he said he wanted to be alone, it did not apply to her. He loved her, and he wasn’t afraid to admit that. 

However, the new set of feelings that had smacked him this summer made him uncomfortable. He was afraid to admit to those because that meant that things between he and Liss could never be the same again.  He would never be able to look at her without feeling like he was suffocating, without his chest aching. And, if what Fergus said had any truth to it, and he figured it did knowing Father, he would always feel that way.  He would never be allowed to act on it. Ever. 

With a mournful sigh, he flung himself down on his bed.  It was still early for sleep, but if he lay there long enough, it wouldn’t be.   He could drift off and not think about Liss and how pretty she was, or how she smelled nice, or how she smiled when she talked about her favorite books.  He also wouldn’t have to think about the hurt in her eyes when he brushed her off earlier. He would have dreamless sleep and think absolutely nothing about Elissa Cousland or how she made him want to die.  Maybe it was just a fever and he’d wake up with the tangled ball of emotions inside him gone. He rolled his eyes at himself. Unlikely.

A rapid succession of knocks at his door jolted him from his bed and he rushed to answer it.  Unfastening the lock he reached for the handle but the door burst open before he even touched it, and he took a step backward to keep it from hitting him in the nose.  Liss barged into the room and shut the door behind her, leaning against it. Her eyes were red and swollen from tears that continued to fall, and she was sniffling, trying to catch her breath. 

“Liss, what’s -.” She fell forward into his arms, catching him off guard.  All the shame and embarrassment from earlier fizzled away, replaced by overwhelming concern.  He hugged her to him tightly, unsure what else he could do. 

“I’m sorry to...to bother you,” she said through sobs and sniffles,”You probably don’t want me here.”

“No, it’s fine,” he reassured her, “What’s wrong?”

“After we finished swimming, Rila and I wanted to show Delilah and Thomas our spot in the garden.  You know the one?” She looked up at Nathaniel desperately, and he shook his head. He knew the one.  “While we were there, your father came to look for your brother and sister, I don’t know why - something about introducing them to some important people at dinner... “ She trailed off, tears still streaking down her face. 

Nathaniel’s heart dropped like lead into his stomach.  He had an idea where this story was going, and it made him sick.  He placed his hands on her shoulders and pushed her out and away from him so he could look at her directly. “What did my father do, Liss?”

A look of anguish crossed her delicate features and she shook with sobs again.  He’d never seen her like this before. “He saw Rila, and he got really angry. She didn’t even do anything, but he was just so angry.  He called her a ‘knife-ear’ and told me and the others we had no business playing with ‘filth.’

“Rila ran off, and I went to find her once your Father left, but she wouldn’t listen.  She told me she hated me and never wanted to talk to me again. This is all my fault.”

“It’s not your fault,” Nathaniel grasped her shoulders more firmly, “She is your friend and you couldn’t have known this would happen.”

She pulled back. “But I did!  Mama and Papa have told me tons of times, but I just didn’t listen.  I’m stupid. I’m a stupid, dumb person who never listens.” She tapped her forehead repeatedly with the heel of her hand.  “Rila is never going to be my friend again.”

“I’m so sorry,” he said, almost in a whisper, and she wrapped her arms around him again.  Her hair was still damp and smelled like the outside air. He wished he knew what to say, that he was good at consoling people, but that was not a strength of his.  He wondered why she sought him out instead of her parents, instead of Fergus. 

“I get it now.”  Liss’ expression hardened as she pulled away again, and she offered him a definitive nod.  “I know why you are different when he’s here. I didn’t before, not really, but I do now.” 

“Father is…” He sighed. “Difficult.”

“I hate him,” Liss snapped, unapologetically.

“Sometimes... I think I might, too.”  He laughed bitterly and walked to sit on the edge of his bed. “But he’s my father, and I have to respect his wishes.” 

It was staggering to think that he might hate his own father, let alone admit it out loud.  Liss walked over and sat beside him, leaning her head against his shoulder. She didn’t say a word, but she didn’t have to.  He understood the gesture well enough. He offered her his hand and she laced her fingers through his, squeezing tightly. 

They sat there for several moments in heavy silence until footsteps and the voices of men were heard down the hallway. 

“Rendon, I assure you Nathaniel is not having an undue influence on Elissa,” Bryce’s voice urged, “And I certainly doubt she’s in his room right now.”  He had spoken so loudly on purpose. It was a warning. 

Liss and Nathaniel both startled, and they looked at each other with widened eyes, conveying their plan without any words.  She drew a finger to her lips and slid down to the floor, crawling under the bed. He hurried to busy himself, taking a book from the shelf, rushing to his desk an pretending to be intently focused on the dusty tome that was almost certainly about Mabari. 

There was a gentle knock at the door.   
  
“It’s open,” Nathaniel shouted, his heart pounding in his chest. 

Bryce entered first, followed by Father, who looked around the room suspiciously.  “See,” he said in the same cheerful tone Liss always used. “She’s not here.” He winked at Nathaniel discreetly. 

“Yes, well.” His father approached the desk, boots clicking against the stone floor.  He placed a hand on Nathaniel’s shoulder with enough pressure that it was uncomfortable. “One can never be certain with this one.  He is always up to something.” 

“Nathaniel has always been on his best behavior with us,” Bryce’s voice was happy, but his eyes looked sad.

“I am sure he is.”  He released Nathaniel’s arm and walked out of the room.  Bryce lingered behind for a moment, offering an apologetic expression before exiting the room and closing the door behind him. 

Liss crawled out from under the bed and stood, more shyly than he had ever seen her, in the center of the room.  She had the same expression her father had worn. 

“I should probably go.” She motioned toward the door with her thumb. “I don’t want to get you in trouble, too.” 

Nathaniel wanted to ask her to stay, to say that he didn’t care what Father thought, that it was worth the risk because she was the only friend he had ever really had.  But he didn’t. He just hung his head and watched as she left his room, closing the door gently behind her.   
  
  



	11. Theft of Parsnip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Did someone say "Epistolary Chapter?" Oh wait, no, that was me... EPISTOLARY CHAPTER.

_**Denerim, 9:31 Dragon** _

 

> _Dearest Sister,_
> 
> _Apologies for taking so long to write to you. I know you must be just beside yourself with worry.  Never fear! Big brother is alive, just drowning in responsibilities. Assuming the role of Teyrn has a lot more to it than just sitting in the big chair and sending soldiers to do things.  Who knew there would be so much bloody paperwork? Father certainly never mentioned it. He made it all look so very seamless and easy. Were he here now, I think he’d be wishing his brilliant daughter had been the heir instead. You should have been the heir from the start, precedent be damned._
> 
> _I never expected to inherit Highever like this.  Father led me to believe he would pass it on well before the end of his days and serve as my advisor.  I’m honestly lost. There are so many things in disrepair. Queen Anora did a marvelous job at restoring the castle, but the city, our lands… they’ve suffered from the Blight, and from Howe’s piss poor management of them.  I hope and pray everyday that I am making good choices for our home and for our family._
> 
> _I know that you are eager to know how I am faring more personally, and to be honest Liss, it is all I can do to make it through the day without breaking down.  It was one thing to be told that my wife and son were murdered, it is a completely different experience to walk into the room we once shared and for it to be empty.  To see Oriana’s dresses and jewelry, that wooden sword you gave to Oren. Just being here is a constant reminder of everything I’ve lost. If I could bring Rendon Howe back to life just to murder him myself, I would without hesitation._
> 
> _Did you know Queen Anora stripped the Howe family of their lands and granted it to the Grey Wardens?  I just received a very official letter from the new Arlessa of Amaranthine, Warden -Commander Lucia Amell, Hero of Ferelden (What a mouthful!)   I don’t think she wrote it. I feel like she might be too busy dealing with whatever is happening in Amaranthine right now with the Darkspawn. Either way, I thought you’d be interested to know.  I’m not sure that I think Howe’s family deserves to pay for what he did. Maker… I wonder if word has even reached Nathaniel in the Marches. Wonder how he’ll take it.  
>  _
> 
> _Anyway, I am sure that you do not want to read pages of my rambling.  I do miss you, sis. I wish that you could be here to kick the arses of all these families trying to arrange marriages with their daughters.  I’m not ready yet... I don’t know that I ever will be._
> 
> _I hope that Denerim is being kind to you.  Does the queen keep you busy? Knowing Anora, I assume so._
> 
> Talk to you soon.  
>    
>  Love,  
>  Fergus

> _P.S.  I’ve sent a package along with this letter.  I found something that I thought you might want to see._

 

Liss sighed heavily, as if she could exhale the weight off her chest, and sat Fergus’ letter down on the desk before her.  It was not easy for her to hear that her big brother, the man she looked up to above anyone else alive, was so defeated. Not that she blamed him of course.  She had only to mourn the loss of her parents while he had lost his wife and son as well. He didn’t blame her for that, but she still did. She probably always would.

Blotting the tears from her eyes with the sleeve of her dress, she moved to open the package that had come with the letter, doing her best to avoid thinking about Howe or his family or Amaranthine or any of it.  It sat atop a stack of correspondence which she had only gotten the chance to sort through today. Fergus was correct in assuming she had been busy. Restoring order to a country required long hours in a small chamber and many heated discussions.

She smiled at the package’s clumsy wrapping.  There was no question that it was truly from her brother.  Nobody else in Thedas could wrap something so poorly, and with such honest effort.  She pulled at the twine that held the burlap in place, uncovering a thick, leather-bound journal.  Even worn by time and water damage, it was unmistakable. It was hers, and she had forgotten it even existed.

Unable to contain her excitement she leaned back in her chair and began to thumb through the pages.  The first several were relegated to poems and pieces of prose she had started but never finished, poorly drawn women with swords, and some pressed flowers.  After that, she had apparently begun using the journal as a diary.

 

> _15 Justinian, 9:18 Dragon:  Today was bad._

 

That was all Liss’ eleven-year-old self had written.  Vague, but the expressive scribbles below depicted a man that looked like Rendon Howe with the word “knife-ear” written in a bubble beside his head.  Her blood boiled remembering that day. Poor Rila. Liss had fond memories with the Elven girl, but she recalled all the times she got her into trouble, simply because she was too oblivious to realize that Rila did not have the same privileges she did.  If she had, it would have spared them both some grief.

Liss flipped through several pages of brief entries from that summer, most of them complaining about the fact that Nathaniel was not allowed to talk to her.  That had always pestered her, and she had not really understood the reason why his father frowned upon their friendship, at least not at the time. Obviously, he had been worried that it would develop into more and that she would want to marry Nate instead of Thomas, but Rendon did not know his own son.  Nate had not been interested in her like that. If so, he would have taken one of the ample opportunities she had given him throughout their formative years to say so.

She laughed bitterly, shaking her head. Howe was dead, her family was dead, Thomas was dead, and she had not spoken to Nate in over seven years, so he might as well have been dead, too.   None of it mattered anyway.

She slammed the journal shut and placed it in one of her desk drawers, unable to bring herself to go through the rest of it at the moment.  She knew how the story went, after all. It had been some time since she had really let herself think about Nathaniel. Well, she always thought about him. There just happened to be a particular way she didn’t let herself think about him.  He was a part of her, and he took that part with her when he left, that’s all that really mattered. Damn him for never writing. Damn him in general.

Opening another drawer, she pulled out a piece of parchment and reached for the quill and inkpot that sat at the far corner of the desk.  She wanted to write to her brother while she had time. It would not do for her to become lost in thoughts of a past that wasn’t important anymore and forget to respond to Fergus for weeks while she drowned her sorrows in work.

 

> Dear Fergus,
> 
> _You don’t have to apologize for needing time to get yourself sorted.  I kind of expected that. I am just happy to hear from you at all. I wish that there were some words I could say to make everything better, but you and I both know that the only thing that will help us heal is time. I was going to try to avoid  saying sorry again because you told me not to, but I am. I’m sorry. I seem to get sorrier every day._
> 
> _I have heard about Amaranthine.  More than I would like to, quite frankly.  Amaranthine this, Amaranthine that. Amaranthine is all I hear about these days.  One of the members of Anora’s council is a Grey Warden, and each time we meet, we spend more than half of the time listening to a bunch of angry banns complaining about the fact that an apolitical entity like the Grey Warden Order is now somehow nose deep in politics.  Alistair — the Grey Warden — doesn’t even have contact with the Warden-Commander, so he can’t answer to any of it. I worry, Fergus. There are talks of an assassination, a plan to remove the Hero of Ferelden from her seat. It’s almost as if they’ve forgotten the woman saved their sorry arses from the Archdemon._
> 
> _I understand the queen’s reasoning, but this has caused needless strife.  If she had granted Amaranthine to Delilah, who almost assuredly had nothing to do with her father’s evil, we would actually be able to get some work done instead of rehashing the same arguments a thousand times.  Andraste’s blood, I’m not cut out for this._
> 
> _But that is beside the point, and I’m certain you don’t want to read me rant on and on about politics, of all things.  Sounds like you have enough on your hands as is, juggling all of those marriage proposals. I will gladly march right up to Highever to put those power-hungry airheads in their place. All you have to do is ask.  You need time to actually mourn, and taking a wife who will be more interested in your status than your well-being would not be a good decision._
> 
> _Listen to me, Fergus, I do not care how lonely or hot and bothered you get, don’t you dare marry one of those glorified leeches.  Get a friend. Go to a brothel. Get a friend who you feel comfortable doing brothel things with. Do what you have to, but I’ll not see my brother married to someone who does anything but love him for who he is. Do you understand me?_
> 
> _Remember that you do have a sister here who cares about you, too. Denerim is just a couple days’ journey from Highever, and as soon as things slow down here, I’ll be making a trip to visit.  The thought of it terrifies me. The last memories of home I have are covered in blood and sound like screams. Still, I’ll have to eventually. What better motivation than to see my big brother who I miss dearly._
> 
> _Thank you for the journal, by the way.  It’s a difficult read, but I’m grateful to have it back. I had forgotten it even existed.  Apparently, 11-year-old me was chock full of feelings about Rendon Howe, too. I’m sure you remember that._
> 
> _I love you, Brother, and I will see you soon._  
>    
>  _Sincerely,_  
>  _Liss_

 

Liss folded the parchment and stuffed it into an envelope that she then sealed and addressed to be sent out tomorrow. She wondered whether she had been too stern with her brother, but someone had to remind him to think with the head on his shoulders and not the one in his breeches!  He was a grown man who had basically been coddled his entire life, which meant he needed someone to look out for him until he learned to do that for himself. Sheltered young men always made the worst decisions. Perhaps it was hypocritical, coming from someone who was younger than him and also sheltered, but she didn’t care.

Setting the prepared postage aside, Liss focused on the stack of correspondence filling her desk, going through each envelope and scroll one by one.  Many of the letters were junk: advertisements from local shops, political mailings, bounties, missing persons reports, and other things that Liss tossed into the waste bin at her side.  

There were several messages from Bria, asking Liss to come visit, and she made a mental note to do so.  Bria was intelligent, funny, and good at what she did. Liss enjoyed her company, and had spent many hours talking with the woman, learning a lot about Antiva and a little about the Forge.  It was a friendship she had not expected, but one for which she was grateful nonetheless.

Speaking of unexpected friendships, there was also a handful of notes  from Alistair -- tiny scrolls that, when unraveled, revealed brief messages with messy sketches beneath them.  One in particular depicted a stick figure labeled as “Alistair” sitting atop a pile of little triangles.

 

> _There is too much cheese in this castle.  What is it with you noble people and smelly cheese? Is it some kind of contest?  I don’t even like cheese. It’s just old milk. Blech!_

 

Another note featured some poorly drawn shape that looked oddly vulgar until she read the note that accompanied it.

>   
>    
>  _Liss. Did you know that the first ever crime reported in Denerim was “Theft of Parsnip?”_ _Look it up._ _  
> __  
> __P.S. I don’t actually know what parsnips look like._

 

One note was written on the back of a book page, and Liss had to take some deep breaths to calm her feelings about the damaged literature.

>   
>    
>  _Sorry about the damaged literature.  I just ran out of parchment. I don’t actually remember what I wanted to say.  I’m sure it will come to me later._

 

Another note written on a torn book page:

 

> _I remembered.  It was that I wanted to say that I feel like I haven’t talked to you in ages.  We’ve both been so busy, I guess. It’s weird to miss someone who lives just down the hall._

 

A flush climbed to Liss’ face and a smile twitched at the corners of her mouth as she read his words.  Had she not known better, she would have sworn he was interested in her in a way that was more than friendly.  She hadn’t known Alistair very long -- around three months -- but in the time that she had known him, she observed that he was kind to everyone, but not in the same way he was kind to her.  It was slight, and hidden under a lot of other emotions he had, but it was there.  
  
Yet, she knew better.  The last time they’d really had time to speak outside of small exchanges in the hall had been the night they drank too much rum in her room and he talked about his past.  Most of the conversation was centered around the Warden-Commander, who he affectionately referred to as “Luce.” Liss figured only he was allowed to call the Hero of Ferelden by that name.  She doubted Alistair even remembered much of that discussion, and he never said it outright, but Liss could tell that he loved her. Even inebriated, his words sang praise of this woman whose absence so clearly wounded him.   She figured it was best to not remind him of their conversation. The poor man would probably be embarrassed.

Rolling up each of his notes, she placed them in the same drawer with her journal, and turned her attention to the final letter on her desk.  It was a large envelope with an official-looking seal. Upon closer examination, Liss realized that the seal was stamped with the shape of griffon, and she turned the envelope over to see to whom it was addressed.  Alistair. It had been delivered to the wrong person. She hopped up immediately and ran out of her room, down the hall and toward the corridor where his room was, letter in hand. She knocked on the door erratically and relentlessly, not stopping until the door swung open to reveal her sleepy-eyed friend.

“Liss,” he mumbled groggily, although he did not seem particularly annoyed.  In fact, he had the beginnings of a smile on his face. “What are you -?”  
  
“Can I come in,” she blurted excitedly walking past him before he had time to answer.  He closed the door behind them and turned to face her.  
  
“To what do I owe the pleasure of this late night visit?”  He rubbed at his eyes and motioned for her to sit down in the chair at his desk.

She shook her head politely, indicating that she wanted to stand, so Alistair slumped into the chair in her place, raking fingers through his disheveled hair.  “I was going through my mail, and at the very bottom of the stack, there was this letter.” She extended the envelope out to him. “It has your name on it, and a griffon seal.  It must have been delivered to the wrong -.”

Alistair stood abruptly and took the letter out of her hands, shaking nervously as he broke the seal and pulled out a piece of thick parchment.  Liss watched as his eyes flicked across the page. The crease between his eyebrows deepened as he read on, and when he finished reading, he shook his head, crumpled up the letter,  and tossed it to the floor.

“It’s not her handwriting,” he stated tersely, the laugh that followed more bitter than Liss had ever heard from him, “She can’t even write to me herself to tell me that she’s alive.  Is it really so difficult? ‘Dear Alistair, I’m not dead.” No, I don’t think it is.” He threw his hands up. “Maker’s breath.”

“I’m, um,” Liss began, unsure what to say, and feeling incredibly guilty that she woke him up in the middle of the night just to cause him pain, “I’m sorry, I thought… Well. You know.”

“Don’t be sorry,” he assured her, expression and voice softening instantly as he reached out to touch her shoulder, “I thought the same. Thank you for bringing it to me.” His eyes lingered on her for longer than he intended, or at least it seemed that way when he darted them away quickly and took his hand from her shoulder, bringing it up  to scratch the back of his neck.

“I should… go.” She motioned to the door with her head, and began to walk out of the room.

“Wait,” Alistair said, urgently, reaching out and taking her wrist in his hand. Liss turned back to look at him, his features pleading with her.  “I mean.” He let go of her arm. “If you’re not… You know what, nevermind.”

Liss moved forward, taking his hand in hers and smiling as she met his gaze. “Alistair, we’re friends, remember?  If you need company, all you have to do is say so.”

Alistair nodded slowly, eyes sparkling with tears Liss knew were about to fall.  She moved closer to him, wrapping her arms around him in a hesitant embrace. She’d never hugged him before, and he had always tensed and flinched at her touch, so she was prepared for that.  She was not prepared for the giant man to return the embrace so forcefully that it nearly knocked them both over. He buried his face into her shoulder, a few warm tears falling, wet against her skin.  

They stood that way for several long moments, until Alistair released her and offered an embarrassed smile.

“Want to go to our spot in the Gardens?” Liss chirped, hoping to cut the awkwardness out of the moment.

“That would be good,” Alistair said with a nod. “Thank you, Liss.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: The whole parsnip line came about because I attended a Josh Groban concert in Cincinnati, Ohio on Wednesday. When he walked out on the stage he said: "Did you know: The first crime ever reported here in Cincinnati was 'Theft of a Cucumber,' and that's why I'm wearing a green suit." 
> 
> While I was writing Alistair's notes, it just seemed fitting. ;D


	12. Warrior Hair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Liss knows she's in trouble when her father uses her whole name.

_**Highever, 9:18, Dragon** _

Liss was to be on her best behavior.  That was what her father told her, and he had used her full name, so she knew that there would be serious consequences if she did not obey.  Still, she wasn’t quite sure what her best behavior was. She always tried to stay out of trouble, to do good, to be kind, but somehow, it never quite worked out for her.  The only reason she hadn’t spent most of her summers scrubbing pots was because Fergus and Nate came to her defense more times than they probably should have. She just liked to have fun, and sometimes that meant breaking the rules.  Sometimes, it meant convincing Delilah Howe to sneak into the Great Hall with her to see the arrival of King Maric and his entourage.

Glittering and golden, Maric walked with an air of easy confidence one would have expected from a rebel hero and now King of Ferelden.  He was exceptionally tall, but his loose posture and gentle smile made him seem far less imposing than the taciturn man at his side. Teyrn Loghain walked next to him with hard, clanking steps and a scowl upon his face.  In many ways, he reminded her of Arl Howe, but in many ways he didn’t. There was a soft admiration in his eyes when he looked at Maric that became even softer when he looked at his daughter. She didn’t think she’d ever seen Howe look at anything with admiration except his own reflection in the mirror.

Lady Anora was everything Liss had imagined her to be, tall and graceful with hair as golden as the king’s armor, braided into an intricate design at the back of her head.  Teyrna Mac Tir had not accompanied her family on this trip, so Liss wondered if Anora had a handmaiden who did her hair, or if she’d done it herself. It would have certainly been a surprise if the grumpy teyrn knew how to create such elaborate braids.  She stood quietly, with perfect posture, and Liss was completely enamored. She had never seen someone so beautiful in real life.

Then there was Prince Cailan.  He was shorter than his betrothed and lanky, with hands and feet he hadn’t quite grown into yet, much like Nate.  In fact, Liss remembered reading his birth year in one of the books Aldous had given her, and she thought they were around the same age.  Yet, the prince could not have been more different than her friend. Like his father, Cailan carried himself with a swagger and a flare of irreverence and disregard for the fact that his father and the other adults were engaged in a very formal introduction.  He fidgeted and looked around the Great Hall boredly, whistling the tune of Andraste’s Mabari. He had no sense for the rhythm, but she’d recognize the notes anywhere.

“The prince is so… handsome,” Delilah giggled beside her and Liss turned to look at the raven-haired girl, who abruptly brought her hand to her mouth to keep herself quiet.  Liss joined in her laughter but refocused her eyes on the scene before them.

“I don’t know, he’s alright I guess,” Liss whispered, disinterested, but watching Anora’s every motion.  

“Oh, right,” Delilah said with another laugh, elbowing Liss in the arm, “You like my brother.”

“Don’t be silly, Delilah.”  Liss rolled her eyes. “I already told you I don’t think of Thomas like that.  I know everyone thinks we’ll be married someday, but that’s dumb. Papa says I don’t have to marry anyone I don’t want to, and that I’m too young to decide right now anyway.”

“I wasn’t talking about Thomas.”

Liss froze even as her face grew hot, that final comment enough to finally draw her attention from the scene before them.  “ _What_ ,” she hissed, causing an uncharacteristically mischievous grin to cross her friend’s face.

Her smile deepened as she sang her brother’s name, playfully. “Nathaniel.”

Liss huffed and turned her nose up at the suggestion.  “That’s even sillier than Thomas.”

“You’re only saying that because it’s the truth.  Your rosy cheeks are giving you away, Liss.” Delilah reached out and pinched Liss on the cheek.  

“Even if I did,” Liss snapped, swiping Delilah’s hand away, “Nate doesn’t think about me like that.  I’m just like an annoying little sister to him.”

Delilah opened her mouth to speak, but at the same time her eyes locked onto something across the room.  Liss turned to see Cailan leaning around Anora, and looking directly at them. A smile stretched across his face and he winked.  Anora turned to scold him, but her eyes flicked toward Liss and Delilah too, and she frowned, her pretty brows pressing together.  She elbowed Cailan, who grumbled under his breath, catching the attention of both the king and the teyrn, as well as Liss and Delilah’s fathers.  

Liss’ stomach twisted into knots, and she knew what was going to happen.  She tapped Delilah on the arm repeatedly. “You have to go,” she whispered urgently, “Go.”

“But you’ll get into trouble.”

“Not as much as you,” she urged even more desperately, pushing Delilah out of the line of sight. “My father won’t be as angry as yours.”  The other girl seemed to understand what she meant and hurried away as quickly as she could.

“Cailan,” Loghain barked, “Is there something you’d like to share?”  Liss was shocked by the impropriety with which the man spoke to the prince, as well as by the lack of response from the king.

Cailan was flippant in his answer.  “Not particularly.”

“Cailan,” Maric scolded, eyes still kind beneath serious eyebrows.

“Not particularly… ser?” Cailan laughed despite Loghain’s obvious seething and Maric’s forced attempt at a stern, fatherly expression.  

Uncomfortable with the direction in which the conversation was headed, and fearful that Cailan might divulge Delilah’s presence there as well, Liss stepped from behind the pillar where she hid and out into the open.  She curtsied as low as she could and kept her gaze down at the floor until she heard her father speak, or rather, sigh. “Elissa.”

It was her full name.  She was in trouble.

“I know I’m not supposed to be here,” she explained, trembling, eyes still locked on the floor, “But I was so excited that the King would be visiting.  I just wanted to see. I hid, but Prince Cailan saw me, and I distracted him. I’m sorry.”

A hand fell upon her shoulder, and she looked up expecting to see her father, but instead it was Maric who towered above her, an amused expression painting his face.  “Tell me, dear girl,” he said, bending down slightly so that he was closer to eye level with her, “Now that you’ve seen me, am I worth all the excitement?”

“No, your majesty,” Liss blurted, without thinking.  She could hear Arl Howe gasp in the background. “You’re just a person… with pretty armor.”

“Elissa!” Her father’s voice was more stern than she’d ever heard it, and she knew she had messed up.  She’d be doing worse than scrubbing pots. She’d never see the light of day again.

Then, to her surprise, the king began to laugh, a hearty roar of a laugh that filled the entire hall.  Liss’ father and Arl Howe wore confused expressions that seemed to echo what Liss felt in the moment, too.  Behind Maric, Teyrn Loghain stood and watched, an amused smile perking up at the corners of his mouth as his eyes darted from Maric, to Liss, and then back to Maric.

“I like this one,” Maric said as he straightened his posture and looked at her father, ”Bryce, this _must_ be your daughter.  She is just like Eleanor.”  

“Yes,” Loghain said in a manner that Liss could have sworn was playful, “It is good for the king to be reminded that the only thing that separates him from the common man is a suit of ‘pretty armor’...  Lest his head become too big for his shoulders.”

Arl Howe continued to look horrified, and her father still looked disappointed in her.  Not even the king’s approval would keep her from her punishment.  
  
“Forgive me, your majesty, but I specifically told my daughter she was not to cause a commotion,” he bit down on the end of his sentence as he approached both Liss and Maric, “She has to learn that there are consequences for her actions.”

“Cailan could stand to learn that as well,“ Maric said, darting his eyes to the prince, who just shrugged, “So could I, come to think of it.  Very well!” He backed away from the two of them, and moved to stand by Loghain and the others.

“Pup,” her father said, lowering his voice, “How many times do I have to tell you that you can’t just do whatever you want, whenever you please?”

“Sorry, Papa.”  Tears brimmed in Liss’ eyes, even at her father’s gentle words.  She hated disappointing him, and she seemed to do it so often.

“Nothing happened this time because King Maric is a kind man.” His voice became more stern. “But most people are not.  Your reckless behavior and your tongue are going to get you into trouble.”

“I know, Papa.” She hung her head. “I’ll do better.”

He placed a large, rough hand on her cheek, and wiped away a tear before bending down to kiss the top of her head. “That’s my girl,” he whispered, pulling back to look at her directly in the eyes.  “Why don’t you show Lady Anora to her room, and you and I will discuss your consequences later?”

Liss perked up at the opportunity to talk to the older girl, but tried her best to not show it.  She wasn’t even sure she would want to speak with her after the events of the past few minutes. She’d made an utter fool of herself, and graceful Anora wouldn’t and shouldn’t want anything to do with her at all.

As it turned out, Lady Anora had no such reservations about following Liss to her room.  In fact, she appeared to be relieved when Liss approached her. It must have been hard to stand with her back so straight all the while putting up with Cailan -- Not that Liss had any problems with the prince, of course.  She had eagerly nodded and accompanied Liss out of the great hall and toward her room.

They walked in awkward silence for more time than Liss thought she could bear, or at least it felt awkward to her.  Lady Anora smiled gently beside her, seemingly unbothered by the lack of conversation. The way she carried herself was so mature, it would have been easy to assume she was an adult.  Liss would have thought so, had she not known the girl to be her brother’s age.

“I am sorry that Cailan got you into trouble,” Anora said finally, breaking the silence.

“It’s my fault, my lady.” Liss answered with a sigh, “I was told to stay out of trouble.  I wasn’t supposed to be in there. I knew better..”

“There would have been no trouble if you had not been seen,” Anora smiled, blue eyes sparkling.  “And there is no need to call me ‘my lady,’ unless you prefer such formalities. We have the same status, do we not?”

“For now,” Liss said with a shrug, “But I am not betrothed to the prince.”

Anora laughed with a sadness that Liss could not quite place.  “Is my relationship with Cailan to be the only thing notable about me?”

Her words were little pinpricks, poking holes into Liss’ view of the world.  She had never thought about what it might be like to be betrothed. All of her stories told her that it was the most important role a woman could play, to be the backbone to a powerful leader.  She never thought about how it would feel to be forced to play that role. She had never imagined that Anora was anything but happy about it.

“I didn’t mean to -,” Liss began, but trailed off, not sure what to say. “I am sorry.”

“You didn’t know better,” Anora assured her, “No harm done.”

They continued on without a single word between them for some time, and Liss could have sworn the hallway that led to the guest wing had gotten ten times longer since the last time walked down it.  She was both eager to speak to the older girl, but also afraid of shoving her foot into her mouth again. Finally, something came to mind.

“I like the way you wear your hair.”

Anora’s face brightened, and a smile not unlike her father’s twitched on her lips. “Thank you.”

“How did you learn to make it look like that,” Liss asked, pleased that her statement had not caused offense, “Do you do it yourself? Or does somebody help you?”

“My mother taught me,” Anora explained, “But my father actually helped me with this one.”

“What?” Liss halted briefly, stunned, and then continued to move forward again “Really? Your father? Teyrn Loghain?”  She mentally scolded herself for babbling.

“Mhmm.  According to Father, it is an old Alamarri tradition for warriors to braid their hair before going into battle.  He says that it’s still common among the Chasind and Avvar, but that it has fallen out of practice among Fereldans.”

“How did your father learn about it?” Liss was enthralled by the new information.  It wasn’t something she’d ever read about, or that Aldous had mentioned.

“My grandfather.” Anora smiled fondly. “I never met him.  He died during the Rebellion, but Father says he was a good man who taught him everything he knows.”

“Even braiding.”

“Yes,” Anora chuckled, “Even braiding.”

Liss slowed to a stop as they reached the door that led to Anora’s room. “This one is yours.”  She motioned to the door with her hand.

“Thank you being my guide, Lady Elissa,” Anora said, bowing her head slightly.

“Liss.  You can just call me Liss, er, I mean… If you want to.”

“Thank you, Liss.”  She turned to enter the room, but paused when Liss called after her.

“Anora?”

“Yes?”

“Just so you know, you’re not important because you’re going to marry Cailan,” Liss said, matter-of-factly, as if her thoughts should be common knowledge, “You’re important because you’re going to be Queen.”

Anora blinked, appearing to search for an appropriate response.

“The Queen with the Warrior Hair,” Liss added playfully.  

“I… thank you.”  
  
Liss just nodded and offered her the brightest smile she could muster, before leaving her to her room.  After all, she figured the longer she hung around, the more likely she was to say something else to upset the other girl.  It was only inevitable.

The walk back to her own room felt much shorter without the impending sense of potentially saying something embarrassing.  Even so, she dreaded the conversation with her father that awaited her once he finished up with the esteemed guests. She imagined what it might be like to be confined to her room for the remainder of the summer, her only interaction with the world being someone sliding trays of food through a slit in the door.  Of course, her father wouldn’t do that to her. He’d just give her that sad, disappointed look that broke her heart into tiny pieces and make her work in the kitchens with Nan for three hours a day.

Guilt bubbled in her stomach.  All her bad behavior ever earned her was chores.  Nate never did anything bad, ever, but he seemed to always be punished for something.  Liss didn’t know how Arl Howe punished his children, but she didn’t think Nate, Delilah, and Thomas would all be so afraid if it were just scrubbing pots.  She would be thankful for whatever punishment Papa chose to dole out.

When she reached her room, she opened up the door to see Fergus lying on her bed, muddy boots dirtying her newly washed coverlet.  He mocked her with his deceptively genial grin.

“What are you doing in here?” She tried as hard as she could to make her words sound sharp.

“ Oh, just catching up on some reading,” he said as he held up her journal, “Last time I saw this, it was just stories and drawings.  Now there are secrets in here, too.”

“You read my journal?” Her blood turned to ice.

“Shall I tell Nathaniel that you think he’s the,” Fergus paused turning back a few pages, “Most beautiful person you’ve ever met.”

“You wouldn’t,” she stomped over to stand beside her bed, looming over him, “You promised me you wouldn’t tell anyone.”

“Yeah, but now you’ve written it down,” he laughed and shrugged, “So it’s official.”

“Stop it,” she ordered, frustrated and terrified tears filling her eyes as she reached for the journal, which Fergus held out of her reach with his stupid long arms. “Give it back Fergus.”

“When is the wedding, Lady Howe?”

“I hate you,” she shouted, throwing a punch that landed with a smack against her brother’s shoulder.

“Was that supposed to hurt,” he teased, tossing the journal aside and standing up so that he towered over her.  He was so much taller than he used to be, but he didn’t scare Liss.

Taking a few steps back, she yelled and charged at Fergus, throwing herself against him hard enough that he lost his balance and tumbled to the ground, pulling her along with him.  She moved to sit atop him, swinging her fists wildly as she did so. She landed a few blows to his chest and shoulders, but he didn’t even seem to feel them, and he blocked the rest with his large hands.

Just as she was about to hit Fergus again, the door to her room swung open abruptly, slamming against the wall.

“Liss! Are you oka--”  It was Nate, and he stopped, frozen as his eyes moved skeptically from Liss to her brother.

Fergus smiled deviously, and Liss warned -- no, _pleaded_ \-- him with her eyes to not do the thing she knew he was thinking of doing.  
“Oh hey, Nate,” Fergus said nonchalantly, as if he weren’t being assaulted, “Mind giving me a hand with my sister?  All I said was that I thought Lady Anora liked me better than her, and she just went mad!” He darted his eyes back to Liss and winked.

Relief washed over her, and she played along. “She’d never like someone as ugly and stupid as you,” she shouted, smacking at him with open hands this time.  “She’d be disgusted because you put your muddy boots on the bed!” It wasn’t entirely untrue, and she managed to swipe him across the cheek.

“At least she doesn’t think of me as annoying, sticky little kid,” Fergus said tersely, pressing a hand against her shoulder to hold her as far away from him as he could.

“The only person annoying and sticky here is _you_ , you big… mean... arse!”

Fergus feigned a gasp. “Elissa, you said a swear! What would father think?”

“He’d agree with me.” She pulled her fist back to strike him again, but she was stopped by a hand grappling at her wrist.  She looked to see Nathaniel holding her back, keeping her from potentially breaking Fergus’ nose. Maker knew she was still mad enough.  

“Let go, Nate,” she warned, furrowing her brows at him, feeling more than a little betrayed despite the fact that they were supposed to be having a pretend fight. “He deserves it!”

“I know that’s probably true.  I want to hit Fergus a lot, too,” Nate said calmly, “But I don’t think it’s a good idea to break your brother’s nose on the same night you insulted King Maric.”  He raised his eyebrows.

“But I -” She deflated, and moved to stand up, allowing Nathaniel to help her to her feet. “That’s not what happened.”

“You did what now?” Fergus, still lying on his back,  began to laugh so hard that he couldn’t catch his breath.

“My father seems to think that’s exactly what happened.”  He smiled, but it was sad. “He said that if he were the king, he would have ordered you flogged.”

Fergus sat up. “Liss, what did you say?”

“He asked me if he was worth me being so excited that I snuck into the Great Hall when Papa told me not to,” Liss explained, “I said no.”

“Maker, sis.  You can’t just talk to the king like that.”

“He thought it was funny, and said he liked me,” she said proudly, “He told Papa I remind him of mother.”

Fergus rolled his eyes. “Of course you’d luck out like that.  If you’d said that to anyone else, you’d be dead.” He rose to his feet, shaking his head. “You need to be more careful.”

“I know.” Liss hung her head, ashamed, once again.  Fergus reached forward and tousled her hair gently, and then looked over to Nathaniel.

“Thanks for saving my nose, Nate.”  Fergus tousled his hair, too, before walking out of the room, winking at Liss one last time before he closed the door.  She scowled at him.

There was a long, heavy silence that Liss had never before experienced with Nate in the years she had known him.  Of course, she wasn’t really surprised. Due to Arl Howe’s vulture-like circling around the castle for the past two weeks, they hadn’t exactly gotten to talk.

Nate’s eyes darted around the room uncomfortably before they settled back on her.  “Delilah said you saved her from getting caught.”

Liss nodded. “It was my fault she was there anyway.”

“I figured,” he said bluntly, but it was accompanied with a fond smile so she decided to not let it hurt her feelings. “Still, thank you.  I don’t know what Father would have done.”

“You’re welcome.”

There was another pause in the conversation, so tense Liss could barely stand it.  She opened her mouth to say something, but thought better of it.

“I should… probably go,” Nate sighed, pointing to the door.

Liss’ heart sank at his words.  She knew he was right, that if his father found him in her room he’d probably never get to come back to Highever.  Nathaniel was always right. That didn’t mean she had to like it. She rushed forward and wrapped her arms around him from behind, pressing her face into his back.

He tensed noticeably at her touch. “Liss.  I can’t stay… if Father --”

“I know,” she interrupted, voice muffled against his shirt, “I just missed you.”  Liss released him, and he turned to look at her briefly and sadly, before walking out of the room without saying a word.

There was no punishment her father could give her that would feel worse than that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout out to Celeritassagittae for the idea about braids being a warrior tradition. It's a beautiful headcanon that I have now adopted forever. 
> 
> Also, I know, I know, two chapters in less than a week. I'm sorry, I have a fire in me and I have to write while it's burning.


	13. Slings and Arrows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nobody expected an attempted assassination of the Warden-Commander. They probably should have, but they didn't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is some canon-typical violence in this chapter, so please take care of yourselves while reading. ^.^

**_Vigil’s Keep, 9:31 Dragon_ **

When Nathaniel was a boy, his father told him about the Blackmarsh and how it had once been a town that simply vanished in the years before the Rebellion. At the time, most people suspected dark magic, and thus, a legend was born.  He always dreamed of returning to the marsh someday and setting things right. Though, he’d never expected the legends about the place to be mostly true. Had someone told him he’d visit the Blackmarsh as a Grey Warden, become trapped in the Fade, and assist a spirit of Justice in a battle against darkspawn and demons to heal the wounds of the past, he would have laughed at them.  Yet, that was exactly what happened. He wasn’t sure if it was the excitement he enjoyed, or the distraction. 

Nathaniel had lost so much in such a short amount of time, staying busy was all he could do to keep himself from falling apart.  His fragile armor of anger and bitterness had cracked beneath the weight of the news his sister broke to him, and it was now desperately close to shattering.  He couldn’t let that happen. If the wave of grief that loomed over him crashed through his defenses he would drown.

And that damned portrait of his mother was staring at him.  He could almost hear her gentle voice scolding him for bottling up his feelings like he always did as a child.  Before she died, his mother had been a source of reprieve from his father’s criticism and constant scrutiny. Father hadn’t seemed so bad when she was alive.  Funny, considering all of the things that could have been taken or destroyed that a portrait of his long dead mother would still be at Vigil’s Keep. It was even funnier that it was hanging on the wall at all.  His father despised the thing. 

“Your mother, I take it,” a voice said, startling him from his internal chafing.  He turned to see Lucia standing a few feet behind him, shoulders back, and without an ounce of self-consciousness. “She’s beautiful.”

“Good guess. That’s her.” He laughed dryly and turned his attention back to the painting. “My father _hated_ my mother.  Once she died, he only brought this painting out to impress her parents — my grandparents— when they visited.  It wasn’t often. I don’t think they ever approved of the marriage.”

“If that’s the case, then I wonder why it’s on the wall,” Lucia observed, stepping forward so that she stood by his side. 

“I don’t know.” Nathaniel shrugged, “Perhaps the Wardens needed it to cover a hole or something.”

“I am happy to have it taken down if it makes you uncomfortable,” she replied seriously, the concern shimmering in her eyes.

“It’s fine.”  The emotion resonated in his voice and he was certain the woman noticed.  She noticed everything. “The painting may have some unpleasant memories attached to it, but I loved my mother.  It is good to see her face again.” 

Lucia nodded but didn’t say anything, seeming to understand his words more deeply than he would have expected.  Then again, nothing about the woman had been what he expected. Not only had she given him a second chance, when he’d given no reason for her to believe he deserved one, but she had also done everything in her power to return the tattered remains of his family to him.  He owed her a debt he could never repay, but he would certainly try.  

“I… owe you an apology,” he said at last, breaking the easy silence between them. 

“That’s not necessary, Nathaniel,” she answered, smiling gently, “It’s alright.”

“It _is_ necessary, Lucia... and it’s not alright,” he protested, turning to face her. “ When I returned from the Free Marches,  I was so angry about what had happened to my family that I believed the rumors that my father was murdered by the Wardens for being on the wrong side of the war.  My sister informed me that Father did it to himself — no conspiracies, just one man who cared for nothing but power and wealth. I should have known better.”

“You had no way of knowing that what you heard wasn’t true.”

“Didn’t I?  He was my father after all.  I knew him better than most, and still I let myself be motivated by lies.  I should have dug deeper before I acted. I was an idiot, and like a child I blamed you and the Wardens.  I was wrong… about everything.”

“Nathaniel, nobody can blame you for making impulsive decisions in response to grief.” She frowned and shook her head. “Everyone behaves irrationally when they’re hurting.”

“Stop making excuses for me,” he snapped, annoyed at her apparent need to not be apologized to.  “I could have killed you.”

“Fine,” she said, her words clipped, but an amused expression crossed her face, “I’ll endeavor to be less reasonable.”

Nathaniel sighed. “I appreciate that you are able to be understanding, but I was horrible to you.  And here you have proven to be a good person… and even a friend, above that” He brought his eyes to meet hers. “Or am I wrong about that, too?”

“You think of me as a friend?” Lucia laughed in what appeared to be disbelief.  “I killed your father; conscripted you into an order you despised against your will, and dragged you on countless life-threatening missions.  I’d think you would want to pick better friends.”

“You did those things as Warden-Commander,” he said, placing a hand on her shoulder, “Outside of your duties, you have returned some of my family’s important heirlooms to me, reunited me with my sister, and given me a second chance I never deserved.  You’ve gone out of your way for me countless times. I know, without question, that I can count on you. That’s not something I can say about most people.”

“You hold me in such high regard.”  She frowned and looked down at the floor, kicking at the stone with the toe of her boot, a nervous fidget of hers she’d done many times in the months he’d known her.  “I’m bound to disappoint you.”

“And I you,” he reassured her, “Friends disappoint one another from time to time.  That’s part of it.” 

She nodded and placed her hand atop his that still lay on her shoulder, and as she did so Nathaniel noticed movement in the shadows behind her on the opposite side of the hall.  Firelight reflected from the buckles of leather armor, the tip of an arrow catching his eye. Lucia said something, but he didn’t hear, heart throbbing in his ears telling him to act, and fast.

“Get down,” he shouted as he grabbed her other shoulder and pulled her to the ground.  The arrow that had been trained on her struck the wall behind them instead.  

“What was that,” Lucia asked, breath quick and shallow as she moved to sit up.  
  
“Don’t move,” Nathaniel hissed raising up to push her back down again, his years of training screaming at him not to. He needed to stay down and hope that she could dodge on her own. The odds for both of them were best that way.  He knew exactly what would happen the moment he moved to protect her, and he didn’t care. It didn’t matter. The white hot pain that seared through his chest moments later came as no surprise. 

“Nathaniel,” Lucia cried out as he fell, the force of the shot knocking him back against her, and every hair on his body stood on end as she summoned some sort of magic shroud that surrounded the both of them. “Why would you do that?”  

“If I had known you’d be so ungrateful, I wouldn’t have bothered,” he rasped and smirked at her.  He could taste blood in his mouth, and it was becoming increasingly more difficult to breathe. The injury was more serious than he would have preferred. 

“Of course, I’m grateful but…” She trailed off, her eyes moving to the same arrow protruding from his chest that he desperately tried to ignore.  He’d never been so aware of his own mortality. “That arrow was meant for me. I should be dead.” 

“Then, we’re even,” he said in more of a gargled whisper than anything resembling his voice.  His vision blurred and began to fade to black.   
  
“No, no, no! Stay with me,” Lucia commanded desperately, words echoing in his ears as his consciousness began to slip away, “Nathaniel! Nate!!”

Nathaniel awoke with a jolt, heart pounding in a chest that -- to his relief -- did not ache or have any projectile weapons lodged in it.  Either Anders had worked wonders, which he doubted, or it was just another dream in which the Taint tried to kill him. It seemed that his days of dreaming that he was back at the castle in Highever, Liss’ arms around his neck squeezing him tightly as she always did, were over.  He never understood how she managed to make her hair smell like lavender flowers. Perfumed soaps, he supposed. Perhaps her hair had just smelled like hair all along, and his memory decided to be dramatic about it. In any event, he hadn’t dreamed of her since he’d taken the Joining.  He figured it was for the best. 

He yawned, stretched, and sat up, pulling away the heavy sheets that covered him and sliding out of bed.  The stone floor was cold against his bare feet as he made his way to his dresser across the room, path illuminated by a lone sconce he didn’t remember lighting, but was thankful for nonetheless.  There were no windows in his room, and as he slipped into a shirt and trousers, and laced up his boots, Nathaniel wondered what time it was. Judging from the sounds, or lack thereof, in the halls of the Vigil, he figured it was late, and that he would be the only person awake for sometime. 

If his nightmare had done anything but scare the piss out of him, it told him that he needed to talk to the Commander, to Lucia, to apologize and to thank her.  He’d probably also be hypervigilant about the potential threat of assassins for the next few weeks. It couldn’t hurt, especially considering that Bann Esmerelle was openly scheming against the Wardens of Amaranthine and their leader.  It would be nothing for her to hire some Crows to do her dirty work. Nathaniel would not let harm come to Lucia, and he would not be caught off guard. 

The Great Hall was mostly empty, except for the usual contingent of guards that stood like statues at their posts as they did every night.  Nathaniel walked up and down the spacious room, scanning every nook and cast shadow for any signs of traps that had been laid or hiding spots.  He found nothing, and one of the guards eyed him judgmentally. He had a shield that bore the Howe family crest. 

“You’ll have to forgive me for not trusting you lot to check for traps,” he stated dryly, “Or just in general for that matter.” 

In a typical Fereldan fashion, the guard grunted, rather than say actual words that might have offered reassurance that he was not among the men that remained loyal to Nathaniel’s father, and that his insistence on carrying that wretched bear was from loyalty to the family instead.  None of it settled well with Nathaniel, especially not since… He shook his head. It didn’t matter. 

Just as he had assured himself that the hall was reasonably safe, the large doors at the front of the room swung open, and there was clanking of armor as the guards in the room all collectively turned to face the hooded figure that entered, small and unimposing against the backdrop. 

“Nate?” The voice was so familiar his breath hitched in his throat.  He knew who it was before she even dropped the hood. 

“Liss?”  He could hardly believe it.  She was dead, or at least she was supposed to be, and yet here she was standing not fifty feet away.  He was frozen, unable to process what was happening, and unable to make his feet move. 

Liss, as she was wont to do, rushed to greet him, her swift walk becoming a sprint, and as she did so, the guards in the room stirred more.  

One gasped and shouted, “It’s that Cousland _bitch_!  Get her!”

The others roared with various utterances of, “You were foolish to come here,” and, “She won’t get away this time,” among some other vile things that made Nathaniel’s blood boil. 

“No,” he shouted desperately, breaking out of his stupor to run toward her, but he wasn’t fast enough.  Arrows soared from various directions across the room. “Liss, look out.” His voice cracked as he met her in the center of the room, throwing his arms around her protectively.  She smiled up at him, and then there was a thud, her big brown eyes widening in pain and horror, a grunt escaping her throat as she fell forward collapsing into his arms. 

His heart shattered, and he looked around the room, dismayed at the guards who clapped and cheered as if they’d just shot some prize-winning game.  The guard he’d spoken to before looked at him and grinned, pointing to his shield. “Don’t look so sad, boy. Far as I’m concerned, I did you a favor.  Real Howe men don’t get distracted by pretty faces.” He sounded just like Father and Nathaniel thought he was going to be sick. The guard returned to his post, as did the others, none seeming interested in harming Nathaniel.   As much as he wanted to gut the rotten bastards, they’d have to wait.

Liss coughed and sputtered against his chest, and he lowered them both down to the floor, where he sat cradling her.

“Nate,” she said, voice hoarse as she reached up to touch his cheek, her fingertips already cold.  She was losing blood. Too much of it. Too fast. 

“I’m so sorry Liss.” He shook his head.  “I should have… I couldn’t… this is all my fault.” 

Liss shook her head and frowned, moving her finger over to cover his lips in a shushing motion, before her arm fell limp, a final breath escaping her.  

“No,damn it,stay with me,” he pleaded, embracing her more tightly, pressing his lips to her hair. “Please.” 

A sudden, sharp pain surged through Nathaniel’s own chest, and he looked down to see blood seeping through his shirt, but there was no wound.  He hadn’t been struck. He looked around and the guards had vanished. Then Liss had vanished. And then he woke up. 

Nathaniel blinked his eyes open slowly, groaning against the heavy throbbing pain in his chest that was not entirely physical.  Blinking away the tears in his eyes, he rose up on his elbows, wincing at the sharp, stabbing sensations that coursed through him with each movement.  Across the room, Velanna sat in a chair, focused intently on the potion she was mixing, eyebrows furrowed as she bit her lip. 

“So,” he said with a grunt, “That’s what it’s like to be shot.  It was… not pleasant.” His thoughts were fuzzy in a way that was not unlike being intoxicated.  The effect of one of the elf’s potions, no doubt. Still, if it was helping to cut the pain at all, he was grateful.

“You should not move so much.” Velanna stood up abruptly and rushed to his side, her voice giving away some measure of concern that she did not show on her face.  “You’ll reopen the wound.”

“Too late,” he said with a laugh as he looked down at the blood seeping through the bandage. “Sorry.” 

“Fenedhis,” Velanna said under her breath as she reached forward and began to remove the bandages that covered most of his torso and back.  Nathaniel didn’t know what the word meant, but he knew it was a curse. 

“You should ask before you touch someone, my lady,” he teased, for no other reason than to watch her get flustered.  At any other time he probably would have thought twice before upsetting the person treating his wounds, but he couldn’t seem to care.  Another effect of the potion, no doubt. At least that’s what he hoped. It’d be a shame if he’d knocked his head and somehow lost his sense of restraint permanently. 

Velanna huffed. “I’ve already touched you hundreds of times while you were unconscious.”

“Oh?” He raised his eyebrows. 

“To tend your wounds, you stupid man!” She threw her hands up in frustration before crossing them over her chest.  “But if you object, I will kindly let them fester.” 

“I don’t,” he said more softly, not wanting to embarrass her further. “Object, that is.  Thank you for taking care of me, Velanna. I am surprised Anders isn’t here instead.” 

“I may not be a healer, but I am perfectly capable of --,” she began to rant, but stopped when Nathaniel laughed at her.  “What?”

“You find a way to make everything an insult, don’t you?”

“I thought you meant that you would prefer Anders.” She frowned, shifting her gaze to the ground.

“I meant that Anders is the healer among us, and that it’s odd he’s not doing this instead.  That’s all.” 

“Ir abelas,” Velanna sighed and shook her head, “I tend to jump to conclusions, let my temper get the best of me.” 

“I hadn’t noticed.” Nathaniel offered her a smile, which she returned and refocused her attention to his bandages. 

“After Bann Esmerelle and her assassins were dealt with, there was some urgent business in the Knotwood Hills,” she explained as she worked,  “Apparently some hunters found some openings to the Deep Roads there. Anders needed to accompany the Commander and the others to investigate.  I offered to stay with you.” 

“It would be unwise to enter the Deep Roads without a healer,” he said with a nod, “Did you say Bann Esmerelle? Is that who I should thank for the hole in my chest.” 

“Yes, and her hired birds.” 

“You mean her hired _Crows?_ ”

“Yes, though I would think a guild of assassins who call themselves “Crows,” would be more intelligent.  The Commander was… very upset that you were injured on her behalf. She blames herself.”

“She should,” Nathaniel blurted, playfully, “ The bloody woman doesn’t know how to stay down when there are arrows flying from every direction.” 

Velanna laughed as she pulled the last portion of bandage free from his chest.  “I see that the potion I gave you for pain has loosened your lips.”  

“A little.”  He watched as she moved in closer to examine the wound, touching the swollen area around it. 

“You are lucky,” she asserted, “It looks like the stitches are still intact.  The main wound is just seeping a bit.” She moved to retrieve a damp cloth from a basin of water that sat near his desk, and then returned, using the cloth to wipe away the blood that trickled down his chest. 

“Have I ever told you that you remind me of a woman I knew in the Free Marches,” Nathaniel asked, an abrupt change in subject. 

“No, “Velanna answered, returning the cloth to the water basin and retrieving a small poultice vial and a roll of gauze.

“Well, you do,” he said, hissing as she applied the poultice that burned like fire.  “She was an elf, too. Beautiful. Fierce. She nearly killed me. I never stood a chance.”

Velanna stopped her work, frozen, bringing her eyes up to meet his. 

“What,” he asked, “Did I say something offensive?”

“You said that I remind you of a woman who was beautiful.” Her words were cautious and she returned her attention to dressing his wounds, as if to distract herself. 

“Yes, and fierce,” he added nonchalantly. 

“Are you implying that you think I am…,” she trailed off, seeming to be too embarrassed to finish the question.”

“You _are_ beautiful and fierce.” 

“You are only saying these things because of the potion,” she muttered, furiously wrapping him in gauze,  “You are out of your head.”

“You’re probably right,” he admitted, “But I’ve thought them plenty of times before now.”

“Stop it,” she ordered, “You mock me.” 

“I can’t have been the only person to ever call you beautiful.”  He was in disbelief, searching her face for some sign that she was joking. 

 She finished up with the bandages and brought her eyes back up to meet his. “And what if you are?” 

“Then you haven’t met enough people.” He offered her a smile, and she continued to hold his gaze for several long moments before looking away quickly.  

“This woman in the Free Marches… she was your lover, then?”

“In a manner of speaking,” he answered with a smirk, “It didn’t last. I was still in love with someone else, and I couldn’t quite move on, no matter how hard I tried. I think that was difficult for her to accept.  Not that she should have accepted it.”

“I see.”  A heavy silence stretched between them, as Velanna appeared to search for words. “Do you still love that other person.” 

 “I suppose I do.  Not that it matters anymore.” Nathaniel laughed bitterly, the events of his dreams rushing to his mind.  “She’s dead.”

“I am… so sorry.” Velanna touched his arm in an expression of sympathy. 

“Yeah," he sighed, bringing his hands to his face. " Me too.”


	14. Part of the Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Puberty woes and expressions of familial bonds. Isn't that what it's like for everyone at fourteen?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since this is a puberty chapter, there are some slightly more mature themes than I've had in previous chapters. Nothing explicit by any means, and nothing I thought would warrant a rating change. But in case any of my readers are sensitive to such things there are light mentions of physical changes and menstruation.

_**Highever, 9:19 Dragon** _

Nathaniel wasn’t going to survive the summer, at least not if his body had anything to say about it. Traitorous skin and bones, muscles and nerves, everything tense and aching in tandem at the slightest hint of stimulation. His senses did not seem to discriminate either: women, men, statues of anyone including Andraste, unusually shaped plants, and sometimes, on the days where the Maker really wanted to punish him, a slight breeze.  Being at Highever, around Liss in particular, made everything worse.  

More days than not, it felt like his skin was on inside out, sensitive to every small movement and touch.  Sometimes her presence across the room was enough to knock the wind out of him. Other times, she didn’t even need to be physically present at all.  Just the thought of her drove him crazy. It did not help the matter that she had _changed_ since the last summer he had spent with her.  She had grown taller, and the soft lines of her body had become curves -- not that he had looked.  In fact, he tried desperately not to look at her. 

It was something Liss made incredibly difficult.  For as long as he had known her, she had always been outgoing and affectionate.  She made herself seen and heard no matter where she was. At present, she was in the gardens, sun bouncing off her hair as she sat on the stone steps with Rila, talking and laughing, arms waving about erratically.  The two must have made up since what happened the previous summer. She probably was still not supposed to be with servant girl. It would take more than her parents’ warnings to stop Liss from doing as she pleased. 

Nathaniel was so engrossed in watching the girls talk that he barely noticed Fergus waving a hand in front of his face and speaking to him.  “Hellooooooo? Are you even listening to me?” The other boy moved from waving to grabbing his shoulder and shaking him. 

“I’m listening,” he lied as jerked away and directed his attention to Fergus again.  After all, they’d been speaking before he’d gotten -- well -- _distracted._

Fergus eyed him skeptically, eyebrows raised, grin spreading across his face.  “Really? Because it looked like you were staring at my sister.” 

“I heard every word you said.” Nathaniel ignored the obvious attempt to tease him. “You met the daughter of some wealthy Antivan merchant the last time you were in Denerim and spent a day together. Her name is Oriana, she is the most beautiful girl you’ve ever seen, and now you think you’re in love.”

“No, Nate,” he said cheerfully, patting Nathaniel on the back roughly, “I know I’m in love."

“How can you be in love with someone you just spent one day with?”

“It was a glorious day,” Fergus said, winking and wiggling his brows and Nathaniel rolled his eyes.  A wistful expression crossed Fergus’ face as he continued, “Besides, we’ve been exchanging letters ever since.” 

“You’re actually serious.”  Nathaniel was genuinely surprised.  The other boy had spoken to him about  girls more times than he could count. Sometimes, he wondered if there was much else on Fergus’ mind beside which Bann’s daughter he could woo at the next festival -- something he was actually good at.  He had an easy charisma that Nathaniel envied on most days. Talking to people, being likable in general, was not something that came naturally to him.  

“Of course I am,” Fergus blurted, sounding more offended than he was, “ What do you take me for?”

“Not serious. About anything… Ever.” He offered Fergus a smirk. “Especially not about girls.” 

“I’m a changed man,” Fergus said, lifting his chin and puffing out his chest. 

“Right.” Nathaniel couldn’t help but laugh at him. Even at his most earnest, Fergus was hard to take seriously. “I feel sorry for Lady Oriana.”

“Between you and Liss, I swear,” Fergus said, shoving him playfully, “Brats the both of you.”

Several silent moments lapsed between the two boys.  Nathaniel could tell Fergus had something he wanted to say, and was thinking over just how to say it.  It was not typical for him, so it had to be serious, or at least something he perceived to be.

“I know I give you a hard way to go.” He laughed, though a serious expression followed, “But I’m glad to know you, Nate.  I know things are bad for you at home sometimes — not that it’s any of my business — but you’re as good as a brother to me, and I’ll always have your back.”

“I…” Embarrassed, Nathaniel turned his gaze downward to look at the stone beneath his feet.  “Where did that come from?”

“I don’t know.” Fergus shrugged. “Just thought you might need to hear it.”

Nathaniel didn’t know what to say, though he searched and searched from something equally sentimental.  He settled for a simple, “Thank you. Same to you.”

It was almost too polite, and he knew it, but Fergus appeared to be satisfied with his response, slapping him on the back again before announcing that he’d be going to the kennels again, to check the latest litter. It had been years, and he had still not managed to have one of the hounds imprint on him. Odd, considering his demeanor made him an ideal match for a mabari.  And yet it didn’t dampen Fergus’ spirit. Nothing seemed to. 

Returning his attention to the garden, Nathaniel noticed that the girls were gone.  He hadn’t realized how much time had passed in his conversation with the other boy, but figured that Rila had to return to her chores, leaving Liss to attend lessons or combat training. Unless, of course, she’s gotten in trouble, then, there was no telling where she may be hiding. 

He set out to look for her.  As uncomfortable as it was to feel the way he felt about her, that didn’t change the fact that she was his friend and he enjoyed her company.  He would suffer physical agony if he had to, but he wouldn’t waste his summer avoiding her -- especially since he’d hardly spent time with her at all the year prior. Father made sure of it. 

He searched for her in all the usual places, but Liss was nowhere to be found. Neither Aldous nor any of the trainers had seen her.  The former made some remark about the “insufferable girl,” and Nathaniel bit his tongue, thanked him and headed back out down the hall. There was no point in debating with the stubborn old man.  The only reason he didn’t like Liss was because she was smarter than him and he knew it. 

Resigning himself to the fact that she would turn up eventually, Nathaniel headed toward his room to grab his archery gear.  Over the past few years he’d built up a small collection of archers’ gloves and thumb rings, as well as tools for making arrows in the field. Not that he’d ever actually _been_ in the field with a shortage of arrows.  He still thought it would be a good skill to have.  Just like picking locks, although he kept the fact that he had taught himself to do that a secret.  He didn’t know what would happen to him if he were accused of stealing something, and he didn’t care to.

Pushing open the door, he was immediately met with a shrill, but muffled shout. “Go away! Leave me alone!” 

The sound had come the girl lying face-down on his bed, face buried in the pillow beneath a mass of blonde curls.  Entering the room and closing the door behind him, Nathaniel stood some distance away, perplexed by the whole situation. 

“Liss,” he asked hesitantly, not wanting to upset her further.  

“What don’t you understand about ‘Go away’?” Her question was pointed, sinking into him as well as any knife could have.  He tried not to let it get to him, though. She was mad at something, but it couldn’t be him. He hadn’t even talked to her yet… unless that was the problem. 

“I understand it just fine, but—.”

“But _what?_ ” Another knife, right to the chest. 

“This is my room,” he said as calmly and patiently as he could, despite his hurt feelings. 

Liss’ head shot up and she scowled as she eyed the room critically, taking in each piece of furniture as if it wasn’t immediately obvious that this wasn’t her room. There were not nearly enough books, flowers, or candles. 

“Oh,” she said, letting her head fall back down to the pillow muffling her voice once more, “Sorry.” She lay motionless, clearly with no intention of leaving. 

“Is...everything all right?” Feeling as if he could move more freely, he began to mill about, gathering his things.

Liss didn’t answer with words, but rather growled an emphatic “ugh,” picking up another pillow and placing it over her head.  It reminded him of how Delilah had been behaving the past few months. Adria had explained it to him, how girls’ bodies change when they start to become women.  It all sounded frightening and unpleasant, and it made him grateful for all of the strange things his body did. Annoying as they were, it was not _that._

“Your instructors are looking for you.”

“Well, they can keep looking. I’m not going,” she huffed, but immediately softened, turning her head to the side so her big brown eyes met his.  They were glistening with tears. “I don’t feel like it.”

“Delilah has days like this too,” he said, continuing to busy himself with his things even though he already had what he needed.  He didn’t want to annoy her with unnecessary eye contact. “We’ve never really talked about it, but she does.”

“Oh?” She seemed to perk up and rolled so that she was on her side completely.  She picked at a loose thread on his coverlet. “Does she skip lessons? Probably not.  Delilah’s perfect.”

Nathaniel laughed; his sister was far from perfect.  “Sometimes she does,” he answered instead of speaking badly about her, “She stays in her room and likes to drink tea and take hot baths.  I guess it helps.” He shrugged.

“Mama says it means I’m a woman now,” she sighed, “I’d rather not be a woman, I think.” Laughing, she sat up and slid off of his bed, facing him and wringing her hands nervously in front of her. “Sorry I came into your bedroom without asking.  I’m so used to using it to hide when you’re not here.”

“It’s okay.  I’m not mad about it or anything.”  He nodded and picked up his bow and quiver, which he hung over his shoulder. “I was just worried something was wrong.”

“Oh no,” Liss blurted, and he jumped slightly. She was twisted around looking at her skirt. 

“What’s wrong?” He dropped his things and rushed over to her.

“Nothing,” she said, throwing her hands behind her and backing up against the wall. She laughed, but he could tell she was upset. 

He was torn between wanting to make sure she was okay and not wanting her to bite his head off, but he thought it worth the risk to ask, “You sure?”

Her eyes darted from side to side and settled on looking at the ground before her.  She sighed heavily, stiffened, and looked back up at him with a threatening expression. “Promise you won’t tell.”

“Promise.”

Liss turned slightly and  tugged at her skirt, revealing a small, yet noticeable stain that looked like blood.  At first he panicked, internally, about why she might be bleeding, but then realized what it was and settled down.

“Oh,” he said, blinking, unsure how else to respond.  

“Just ‘oh’? You’re not going to laugh, or tell me it’s gross?”

“It’s not funny,” he assured her, stepping closer and smiling, “Or gross. Actually, it looks to me like you just sat in something.”

“Nate,” she hummed affectionately and returned his smile, though she still looked upset. “I think it’s pretty obvious what it is. Ugh!  And I have to walk all the way to my room like this.” More tears though he could see her visibly fighting them. “Sorry, I just… _keep crying._ ”

Nathaniel stood awkwardly, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, not really sure on the appropriate way to respond.  The entire situation was far outside his comfort zone, but he didn’t want to embarrass Liss by telling her so. She trusted him and he wanted to help. 

“I have an idea,” he announced, closing the distance between them and examining the waist of her skirt more carefully. “Can you, I don’t know,  twist it around a bit?”

Her face brightened as she seemed to understand what he meant and pulled at the waist of her skirt until the stain was at her side instead of behind her. She examined the spot and frowned.  “It’s still very obvious, don’t you think?”

He grinned and offered his arm to her, playfully.  “Not if I walk by your side, my lady.”

The ensuing giggle that escaped her was the most beautiful thing he’d ever heard.  He wasn’t sure he’d ever made her laugh like that, at least not directly. She hooked her arm through his eagerly, and his chest swelled, but he did his best to stay calm.  

After all, this was no different than any other time they’d touched or hugged or walked arm-in-arm.  When they reached her room, the kiss she placed on his cheek to thank him was no different than any other time she had kissed his cheek.  Only it was different. Completely. Now, he noticed how her arm felt in his, the way her hair smelled, and how soft her lips were. It was misery and it wasn’t at the same time.  

Returning to his room, he grabbed his things as he intended before and headed to the archery range.  He welcomed the distraction even more than he had before. If he couldn’t get past his feelings for Liss, he’d just ignore them, bury them in the hay target he filled with newly made arrows.  That should do the trick. It had worked for other feelings he wanted to not have well enough. 

“Nathaniel,” a gentle voice called from the steps leading down to where he stood.  He turned to see the teyrna waving at him, the smile on her face as gentle as her voice. “Can I speak with you for a moment?”

He nodded, knots twisting in his stomach at the thought of what could make Lady Eleanor seek him out.  He hoped he wasn’t in trouble.  

“Come! Walk with me,” she said, motioning with her arm, and he obeyed,  following her up the steps towards the battlements. The last time he’d walked the battlements had been when he’d received the news of his mother’s death. He hoped this time would be more pleasant.  “I just spoke with Elissa. She told me what you did for her.”

“What I did?” He thought for a moment. “Oh, _that._ ”

A grin spread across the teyrna’s face that made him nervous. It was too wise, too knowing.  It made him feel as if all his secrets were bared before her. 

“I can’t say I would have expected a boy your age to act with that amount of grace and sensitivity.” She chuckled. “Fergus is older than you, and I know he certainly wouldn’t have.  I just wanted to say thank you.”

“You’re welcome, my lady,” he answered, bowing his head to show respect.

The teyrna offered him another smile, this time with a sadness to it.  He got that smile from adults many times. It usually preceded an apology about his mother or followed discussion of something less-than-noble his father had done.  He hated that kind of smile.

“Your father is a respectable man, and a loyal ally to our family,” she began, looking out over the battlements, “But, for as long as I’ve known him, he’s been cold, harsh, and temperamental.  When Bryce told me off his wish to take you in for the summer, I quite expected you to be the same. You look so much like him.”

It wasn’t the first time Nathaniel heard that, but it still stung.  He wished he looked more like his siblings, with their soft features and pretty noses. 

“But you’re nothing like your father,” she continued, “It seems like no matter what life throws at you, you remain thoughtful, gentle.  You have your mother’s heart. I know she would be so proud of you.”

“I…” His throat burned as he choked back the tears he refused to let fall. “Thank you.”

Lady Eleanor stopped, turned, and placed a delicate hand on his shoulder.  “You care for my daughter a great deal, don’t you?”

Nathaniel’s face grew hot as he steeled himself, trying as best he could to conceal the embarrassment. “She is my friend, my lady, my best friend.”

“I am glad she has you,” she said with another knowing smile. He wished she would stop.  “I’m glad we all do. You’re a fine young man, and as far as I am concerned, you’re part of the family.”

Unable to conjure up words to appropriately express his gratitude, and with some amount of concern that he might cry in front of the dignified woman, he nodded and bowed his head again in response.  

“That’s all I wanted to say,” the teyrna said, patting him gently on the shoulder, “I’ll let you get back to your archery.  Who knows, maybe someday, you’ll be as good a marksman as me.” She raised her eyebrows playfully and disappeared down the steps. 

Nathaniel lingered atop the battlements for a few moments longer, appreciating the cool breeze, and processing all that had just happened.  Just as Fergus’ words earlier that day, the things Lady Eleanor said to him meant more to him than he could put into words. For years, he had envied the Cousland family for their wholeness, when his own family was tattered and torn to pieces.  Yet, somehow, without even knowing it he had become part of it, something for which he would be forever grateful. Inhaling deeply, he headed down the steps and back to his target, an immovable smile on his face. 


	15. Without Even Trying

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Liss makes a decision about her feelings, and then another contrary decision. Feelings are confusing, you see.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick update! O.o  
> For those of you all who have read a particular previous fic of mine, some of this will sound very similar, and that’s because it is! That story was the inspiration for this story and the timelines overlap briefly. :)

_**Denerim, 9:31 Dragon** _

The flames from the forge burned hot, the warm glow illuminating the smithy as Liss sat lazily behind the counter and watched Bria work.  The Antivan woman had worked up a sweat as she honed her most current set of blades, a pair of silverite daggers that glittered orange with the flames.  It was an exceptionally cold day outside, even for winter in Ferelden, and Liss was thankful for the warmth. She was also thankful for the company. 

Nearly four months had passed since she agreed to join Anora’s council, and while the restoration of order to the country was far from over, meetings had become fewer and further between.  Many major decisions had been made, and everyone held their breath waiting, hoping that tensions died down among the nobility so that they could focus on a common goal: restoring the areas most affected by the Blight.  Of course, the nobility wouldn’t be settled for long. Amaranthine was still a point of contention, but there had also been little word out of the arling in weeks, something that was particularly rattling for Alistair. He’d heard reports of some lone bands of darkspawn lurking on the roads outside the city, and took off alone to fight them. It was a stupid thing to do, but he said he could handle it and refused to let her accompany him. 

Liss inhaled deeply and sighed, laying her head down on the counter, and earning her a chuckle from the other woman just before she dropped the blades in water to harden them.  Steam burst up from the tub and hissed loudly before settling down. 

“Why are you laughing,” she asked, raising her head and donning the best scowl she could, “I don’t like it when you laugh at me.  It usually means you’re about to tell me some obvious truth about myself that I was too stupid to notice. It makes me feel inferior.”

Another chuckle and Bria shook her head, continuing to work.  “You come to me and say ‘Bri, I am bored,’ because you want company.  Yet you sit and mope about the whole time. I do not think you are bored, Liss. I think you miss Alistair.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Liss scoffed, “It’s not like that.”

“I did not say it was.” A mischievous grin flashed across her face before it was replaced by feigned innocence. 

“He’s only been gone for a little over a day,” Liss explained, “Sure, I’m mildly concerned for his safety, considering that he insisted on going to fight those darkspawn alone.  I know he’s strong and skilled, but he’s also clumsy. What if he were to, I don’t know, get caught in a trap or something? I don’t miss him. I’m just worried.”

“Are you trying to convince me, or yourself?”

“You picked the wrong profession,” Liss said playfully, “You’d be an excellent spy or diplomat.”

“In my country, spies and diplomats do not have long lives. I like to  think I chose wisely.” Bria walked away from the forge, dabbing at her face with a towel as she sat down beside Liss. “Besides, I am good at what I do.”   

“Fair point.”

“You know, Alistair speaks of you often.” She offered Liss a brief smile, genuine this time.  “I do not think your care for him is one-sided. You two might-.”

“Don’t, Bri,” Liss interrupted, shaking her head, “He is still in love with someone else.”

“Someone who he has not heard from in months.”

“That doesn’t matter.” Liss didn’t mean to laugh so bitterly.  She didn’t mean to let Bria pull all of this information from her at all.  She’d intended to, for once in her damn life, not act on her first impulse.  As much as she liked Alistair, and as easy as it would be to love him, she didn’t think it prudent to let infatuation and vulnerability make her decisions for her.  She had a knack for loving people who didn’t or couldn’t feel the same about her, and she knew better than to give these thoughts any space to grow. 

“Life is short,” Bria remarked almost dismissively, “In Antiva, when we love someone we tell them so.”

“I’m not Antivan, Bri,” Liss said seriously, “I’m Fereldan, and in Ferelden, we hold all of our powerful emotions inside and live in agony for the entirety of our long, fur-coated lives.”

“Have you not suffered enough already?”

“Apparently not.”

Bria laughed, draped a friendly arm around her shoulders, and kissed her cheek. “Have it your way, muñeca.”  She hopped up from the stool and returned to the forge. 

Liss remained in the smithy with Bria for an hour longer, more so for the warmth than anything else.  By the time she decided to leave, the air had chilled even further as afternoon turned to early evening, and she could see her own labored breath as she hurried to the castle.  She entered the main hall and rushed immediately to a brazier that remained lit in the center of the room, standing beside it before she was sufficiently warm, and then turning to go to her room. 

A loud creak erupted as the large, wooden door creaked open again, and she stopped, looking over her shoulder to see Alistair enter.  Upon first glance, he looked no worse for wear except for some splatters of blood on his breastplate and dark circles under his eyes. A weight lifted from her chest at the sight of him, and she waved at him excitedly.  He did not seem to notice, so she waved again and shouted, “Hey! You’re back! How fare the darkspawn?”

For a moment when he looked up to see who was speaking to him, she caught a glimpse of the hurt behind his eyes, which he was quick to tuck away behind a handsome, crooked smile. 

“Oh, you know, same old, same old.  They were very upset that you never write them anymore.” He laughed and raised his eyebrows. It was impressive how genuine the smile seemed. He was very adept at hiding behind that mask of his. 

“Well, we didn’t exactly leave things on good terms, did we? What with the Blight and all.”  She crossed her arms and shifted her weight from one hip to the other. 

Alistair shrugged. “That’s what I tried to tell them, but they weren’t having it, so...I had to kill them.” 

“Seriously, though, did it go smoothly?” Are you all right?” She scanned his body for any signs of physical injury, frustrated with herself for being so obvious in her concern, something that had never bothered her before. This was Bria’s fault. 

“Pfft, a few darkspawn hurt me?” He tilted his head upward and crossed his arms in feigned offense. “Never.” 

As he moved, she noticed a large gash across his arm that looked as if a blade had slashed right through his bracer and nicked the flesh. There were some discolored, green spots around the wound that looked like poison.  It would have burned, but may not have been obviously painful, especially in the heat of battle. Still, she was surprised he didn’t notice it at all. 

Smirking, she tugged at his wrist, ignoring his grimace and tiny pained yelp as she pulled it up so he could see it. “Oh really? Then what’s this?”

He laughed, and attempted to brush it off as a scratch, but she knew better and so did he.  Depending on the poison, and especially considering the filthy darkspawn blade that inflicted the wound, the risk of rot or infection was substantially higher than with a standard cut.  She convinced him to go to the nurse, and he only protested briefly, most of it just a playful attempt to irritate her. 

Liss watched and did her best to stifle her laughter as Alistair cringed and hissed off a string of curses that seemed to offend the very obviously devout, Andrastian nurse who treated his arm, causing her to work more roughly.  She cut and peeled away pieces of his shirt that clung to his skin, and although Liss knew it must hurt, she could not help but be amused at his choice of profanity. She lay a hand casually on his shoulder in an effort to comfort him, though she doubted it would do much good.  

“Liss, you’re from Highever, right,” he asked when the nurse stepped away to work at a table, crushing and mixing the  ingredients of some sort of antidote.

“What gave it away: The last name, the fact that my brother is a Teyrn, or the fact that I’ve mentioned only about a hundred times since we’ve known one another?”

“You know what I mean.”  He grunted as the nurse returned and spread the dark green mixture on and around his open wound.  Liss cringed in sympathy, and had to keep herself from telling the nurse to be more gentle. It’d probably only make it worse for him. 

“Yes,” she answered him, proudly, “I happen to be intimately familiar with Highever.  What of it?”

“I’ve been meaning to go there for a while now,” Alistair explained, visibly relieved when the nurse began to bandage the wound, “My friend, Duncan, was from Highever.  He died in the battle at Ostagar, and I wanted to visit so that I could, I don’t know, honor him.”

“I remember Duncan,” Liss said gently, squeezing his shoulder as she remembered the tall, soft spoken man she’d seen on occasion growing up.  “He visited from time to time looking for recruits - sometimes from our guard, sometimes from our dungeons. He didn’t seem to discriminate and I always admired that about him.  I was relentless with my poor father about wanting to join the Wardens, but he wouldn’t have it.” 

“You’d make a great Warden.”  He smiled and then looked down at the ground. 

“Thank you for saying that.  It always bothered me when Papa  told me no, but I know he only meant to protect me.  From what I’ve seen, being a Grey Warden is not quite as romantic as the tales.”

“Yes,” Alistair laughed, “There’s a disappointing lack of griffons.”

There was a long and heavy pause in the conversation, though it wasn’t uncomfortable.  The only sound in the room the nurse’s cheerful humming as she tied the bandages, pulling them so tightly that Alistair flinched.  She must have really disapproved of Alistair’s creative use of Andraste’s name. 

“There you go young man,” she announced sharply, “That should do the trick, so long as you don’t move it around too much  until the antidote dries.” 

He nodded and stood, thanking her for her time, to which she replied with an unimpressed grunt before walking away to tend to a guard who entered with a broken arm.  Liss could not bring herself to trust the nurse’s work, considering how roughly she’d treated her injured friend, and she moved to examine the wrappings herself. She could find no fault with them, and released his arm, satisfied. 

“You’ll also want to keep it clean,” she added, looking up at him seriously, “You wouldn’t want it to get infected.” 

“I know how to tend a wound,  _ thank you very much _ ,” he snapped, pulling his hand away from her.  His words stung, and shame bubbled up in her chest for being such a nuisance. 

“I just --,” she began, but just threw her hands up in frustration.  “Nevermind.”  

“I’m sorry,” he said, meeting her gaze and smiling at her softly, “I know you’re just worried about me… I appreciate it.  Really.” 

As they exited the infirmary, and walked down the hall,  Liss remembered the conversation he’d started earlier. “I could go to Highever with you, if you want,” she offered,  “I haven’t seen Fergus since I got here, and he seemed bothered in his last letter. It would be nice to see him, to make sure he’s holding up all right.”

“I...” Alistair began, but froze, clearly torn. “Thats, well…Hmm.”

“What is it?” She touched his shoulders gently. She knew it was too affectionate considering her resolve to not act on her feelings.  He made it difficult. 

“”It’s just, I…” He trailed off, laughing nervously and looked about the hall as if to avoid Liss’ gaze altogether. “Lucia and I planned to visit Highever together.  It was a long time ago, but it just made me think.”

“Oh.” 

“But she’s not here, is she,” he spat, an edge to his words that was sharper than Liss was used to hearing from him, even when he was at his most sarcastic, “She probably doesn’t even remember.”

“I don’t have to go, if that makes you uncomfortable.”  She offered him a smile she didn’t mean and made an attempt to sound much less disappointed than she was.  She really did want to go home, and the trip would be much better if she didn’t have to go alone. “I just thought I would offer, you know, since I know my way around.” 

“I -- no.  You should come.”  His answer was quick and he seemed just as surprised at it as she was. 

“I don’t want to spoil your trip.”  She kept the excitement at bay, expecting him to rethink his decision at any minute.

“You? Spoil something?  _ Never. _ ”  Alistair no longer seemed nervous, the smile that crossed his lips soft and genuine and Liss was  _ very _ confused.  “Please come.  I could use the company.”

“Are you absolutely sure?”  

He nodded. “Of course! Shall we leave first thing in the morning?”. 

“So long as you can bear to look at me without my beauty sleep.”  

“You don’t need it anyway.” He made the mark rather casually,  but immediately flinched and muttered a  _ Sweet Maker _ under his breath.  He looked at her apologetically, though he did not recant what he said and it brought a warmth to her face.

“I’ll see you in the morning,” she laughed, patting him on the shoulder as she walked past him and down the hall to her room. 

They did, in fact, leave the first thing the next morning, and Liss questioned her judgement.  The journey from Denerim to Highever was just long enough that riding straight through was uncomfortable.  In the midst of a Fereldan winter, it was completely unbearable. She did not appreciate the frigid air and frozen rain that smacked against her face.  It was a miserable time, enough that she did not even feel like speaking until she and Alistair set up camp at the end of the day, and was able to thaw herself by the fire. 

“You know,” he began, a playful tone in his voice, “ if you stand any closer to that fire, you’ll roast yourself.” 

“That doesn’t sound so bad right now.”  She struggled to speak through shivers and chattering teeth.  “I’d sit inside of it if it weren’t, you know, for the burning flesh.”  She rubbed her hands together furiously in a vain attempt to keep them warm. 

“I take it you’re not used to being out in the elements?”

Liss darted her head around to glare at him.  “Of course I am! What do you take me for?  _ Orlesian _ ?” 

“My apologies, Lady Cousland.”  He threw his hands up, and tried to keep his tone sincere, but she could see the laughter in his eyes. “I just assumed you’d have more comfortable traveling accommodations.  That’s all.” 

Liss huffed.  “Bryce Cousland would never have his children being soft and spoiled.  ‘You’re Fereldan! Fereldans are hardy!’ He always said things like that.” 

Her heart sank into her stomach at the thought of her father, his final words to her echoing in her ears almost as clearly if he were there.  He could have told her to be strong or brave, and bid her to avenge the family. In that moment, he could have charged her with anything, made any request, and she would have sworn on her life to see it through.  Her father was her hero, after all. Of course, he’d made no such requests of her. As he lay there on the floor, wounded, prepared to die so that she might have a chance to escape he made her promise to him that she would live a happy life.  Now, she didn’t know if she’d ever be able to keep that promise. She could scarcely remember what happy felt like. 

She paused, looking into the fire and steadying herself with a smile before walking away from the flames to sit by Alistair.  “I’m Fereldan. I’m hardy. It doesn’t mean I have to like the cold.” 

Alistair frowned and he sat in somber silence, appearing to search for something to say.  “Your father sounds like he was a good man.”  

“He was the  _ best _ ,” she managed to answer, smiling even though tears welled in the corners of her eyes.  It was strange to be so sad over someone whose memory was so happy. “I’ll never forgive that traitorous vulture, Howe, for what he did to my family.”

“I’m… so sorry,” Alistair muttered, his kind eyes overflowing with sympathy that made her chest hurt.  

“Queen Anora told me the Warden-Commander killed him.  She said that he’d taken her prisoner, and it was the only way to save her.”

“Yes,” he answered quietly, looking off into the distance, likely trying to remember the exact details, “In the process of freeing Anora, we stumbled upon his dungeon.  Hundreds of innocent people tortured and killed.” He paused and laughed bitterly. “He got what he deserved, if you ask me.”   

“Good,” she asserted, leaning into Alistair and resting her head on his shoulder almost unconsciously.  Her desire for warmth and comfort outweighed her reservations. To her surprise, he seemed to welcome contact as well, even going so far as to wrap an arm around her shoulder and pull her closer to him. Perhaps it was the cold, or perhaps it was something else, but he’d never been so openly affectionate with her. 

“I guess,” he spoke, finally, clearing his throat, “Well… I know what it’s like to lose everything.  I’d never really had a family until Duncan recruited me. When I lost them I felt so empty, and alone.” 

She shook her head, angry with herself for once again failing to realize she wasn’t the only one who’d had a traumatic year.  “And then you had to save the world on top of it all. It’s kind of impressive.” 

“Oh, I don’t know about saving the world,” he laughed away her praise, clearly uncomfortable with it.  “I couldn’t have done any of it on my own.”

“You aren’t giving yourself enough c-credit.” Liss shuddered.

“Maker’s Breath, Liss,”  Alistair exclaimed, “You’re still shaking.”

“I’m still cold,” she mumbled into his shoulder, her own breath warming her nose.  “And now I’m sad, too.” 

“I know.” He nodded, leaning forward and turning his gaze to the fire before looking back to her, “Me, too.” 

Alistair removed the heavy blanket he had wrapped around his shoulders and  draped it around Liss’, atop the other blanket under which she was already huddled. His eyes met hers as he did so, lingering, expressing more than he probably would have been able to conjure up with words.   It was an overwhelming urge she experienced, to lean in slowly and press her lips to his. It was soft, hesitant, and he had enough time to pull away if he wanted to. Something in his eyes told her that he wouldn’t, and she hadn’t been wrong.  

Still, she pulled away, searching his face for any sign that she’d overstepped, but there was none, and as she attempted to mutter an apology, he interrupted her with a kiss of his own, deeper, more urgent than hers had been.  He wrapped his arms around her more tightly, pulling her into an embrace. She allowed herself to become lost in the moment, reveling in the warmth and comfort, in the taste of his lips and the smell of his hair. It was a horrible idea, and she knew it, but it felt so good, and so right.  For the first time since she lost her family, she didn’t feel alone, and that was not something she could apologize for.

 Without trying, and even with active attempts not to, she had come to care for him, to love him. She knew it was most likely a mistake, but in the moment, with his arms around her, holding her so close, she couldn’t bring herself to care. 


	16. Butterflies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The middle of summer makes combat training miserable, and thirteen-year-old Liss struggles to cope with the... heat.

_**Highever, 9:20 Dragon** _

The middle of the summer was not for combat training, Liss decided as sweat trickled beneath her sparring gambeson causing her undershirt to cling to her skin.  The armor was lightweight, nothing compared to the steel and silverite she’d seen her father’s soldiers wear, but it was still miserable in the hot sun nonetheless.  Dizzy and lightheaded, completely unable to concentrate, she wondered if she may not be cut out to be a warrior. She shook the doubt away rather quickly, though. She just needed to practice, to build stamina and strength!   After all, melting beneath a suit of armor was preferable to suffocating in a corset. 

Liss had always envied the attention that Fergus had gotten by the trainers, but now that he was gone for a few months visiting with that girl from Antiva, she wished he was back so that they would leave her alone.  Of course, that wasn’t the only reason she missed Fergus. It was strange and quiet without him there to pester her, cheer her on, and get her out of trouble. She didn’t realize how big of a part of her day he was until he wasn’t there anymore.  She tried her best not to have bad feelings toward Lady Oriana, but she was taking her brother from her, and it was hard not to be jealous. At least Nathaniel was still there. 

Several yards away, Nate stood at the hay targets, bow in his left hand, and an arrow nocked and drawn in his right.  It was a reversed stance for him, considering he was left-handed. When he released the arrow, it was less precise than she knew him to be, and it struck the target well outside the middle.  Apparently, he was going to train himself to shoot with both hands, the show off. A smile twitched at her lips as she watched him nock another arrow.  

He had grown taller by quite a bit since the previous summer, though he was still just as thin.  His hair had grown, too, and he now wore braids at the sides that kept dark strands from falling into his face.  Liss liked the braids more than she probably should. Heat rose to her face and her stomach twisted into knots just like it did when she realized that she thought Rila was beautiful.   It wasn’t really new for her to feel this way around him, but now she knew what it meant and it bothered her. He was her friend. She wasn’t supposed to think about him like that. Still, she wished he could see what did when she looked at him. .

A dull pain and heavy pressure followed a thud against Liss` chest that knocked her to the ground.  She looked up to see her opponent standing over her, wooden sword extended. He was a young recruit, just a few years older than she was, training to serve in the Highever Guard when he came of age.  He wore a smug, victorious expression that she wanted to smack off of his face. The only reason he’d been able to get the advantage was because she was distracted. She was better than him and she knew it. 

“Apologies,” he said in a tone that put his smug expression to shame  He offered his hand to help her up. “I don’t usually like to hit girls, especially not _ladies_.”

Liss slapped his hand away and stood up on her own. “That’s stupid.”

“Easy now.” He threw his hands up defensively. “I was just being polite.” 

“No,” she answered matter-of-factly, trying her hardest to keep herself from smiling, “You were just underestimating your opponent.  Something any of the trainers would tell you is a very bad idea.”

By the time the recruit realized what she meant, Liss had already grabbed the front of his armor, pulled him close to her and kneed him in the groin.   He yelped and fell to the ground, a string of curses rolling from his lips. Smirking, Liss extended her sword toward him, a silent call for him to yield. In the corner of her eye she noticed that Nate had stopped what he was doing and was watching intently.  Unsettled by the pounding in her chest that his attention caused, she focused singularly on her foe. If she ignored it, it would go away. Besides, she didn’t want to be caught off-guard again.

“I won’t yield to someone who fought dirty,”  the young man groaned, voice hoarse from the pain, “It’s not a fair fight.”

“I won,” she spat with arrogance she knew was unbecoming, “Doesn’t matter if it was fair. Yield.” 

He scowled and opened his mouth to say something, but stopped, his eyes shifting to look at something behind Liss.  Just then, she felt a hand on her shoulder, and she turned to see her papa standing behind her, grinning proudly, but also rolling his eyes.  There was another man beside him, tall, muscular with dark skin and several piercings in his ears. As intimidating as he looked, he had kind eyes, and was smiling his approval as well.  

“The young lady makes an interesting point,” the man said to the recruit who had scrambled to his feet. His voice was softer than she expected it to be, “Do you believe all your enemies will fight with honor?”

“I never really thought about it, ser.”

“Well, perhaps now you’ll think about it.” He moved to give the recruit a reassuring pat on the back.  The young man just nodded in response and scurried away, clearly embarrassed by the whole affair. Liss flinched a bit as he left, but he’d asked for it, after all.

The man turned his attention back to her and her father. “So, Bryce, I take it that this is your daughter?”

“That she is,” Papa said turning to look at her, “Elissa, this is Duncan.  He’s Commander of the Grey Wardens in Ferelden. He was actually born here in Highever.”

Liss examined this man called Duncan in awe, the revelation that he was a Warden framing him in a completely different light.  He wore no armor that would have identified him as such, and she had to use much of her self-control to keep herself from asking him about griffons.  She didn’t want to make a fool of herself in front of the man, especially if she ever wanted to join the Order some day. 

“It’s good to finally meet you, Lady Elissa,” Duncan said, pulling her out of her thoughts, “Your father speaks highly of you.” 

“It’s Liss,” she blurted without thinking and Duncan raised his eyebrows, “Sorry. It’s  just... I go by Liss.”

“Well, _Liss_ , you are quite skilled for someone your age. I’m impressed.”

“Thank you, ser,” she replied, bowing her head respectfully. “It’s nice to meet you too.”

“I’m proud of you, pup,” Papa added, patting her shoulder affectionately, “I think you’ve earned the rest of the afternoon off.”

“Really?” She jumped a little, though she could hear her trainers protest in the background. 

“Yes,” he laughed, “Even though your trainers seem to disagree with me.  You can always practice another day. It’s too hot anyway. Keep this up and you might faint.”

“Thanks, Papa!”

“I am going to show Duncan to some potential Warden recruits,” he explained, and then motioned off toward the archery range, “It looks like Nate is waiting for you.”

Liss followed his arm with her eyes to see that Nate was still standing there.  He wasn’t watching, but he was fidgeting and pretending to be busy, but she knew he wasn’t.  He was waiting, just as Papa said. Her face grew hot again and she was thankful she could blame it on the sun.  She waved to the two men and headed over to talk to her friend, ignoring the butterflies flapping around in her stomach.  

It was just Nate, and he was still himself, the same person she had known for five years now.  It was silly that she couldn’t seem to talk to him the same anymore, no matter how much she tried.  She even said the same words as she always had, but they all sounded wrong now. She worried he might hear it, too.  That he might notice. Would he still be her friend? It wasn’t a risk she wanted to take. Ever. 

“Hey Liss,” Nate said as she approached him.  She’d nearly forgotten his voice was deeper.

“Hi,” she muttered and cleared her throat, “I mean, hey Nate.”

His brows pressed together as he looked at her. “Everything all right”

“Mhmm.” She nodded, hoping it looked more convincing than it felt. 

“You look hot.” Nate’s brows were still knitted, but Liss flinched and recoiled from him a bit.

“You think I’m…,” she began, head spinning, “What?!”

He laughed and rolled his eyes, as if he hadn’t said something shocking and out of character. “I meant temperature-wise.  You look like you’re burning up.”

“Oh.” She’d never had such a strong desire to throw herself into the nearest body of water. Both out of shame and because she really was very hot. 

“But, you can take it as a compliment if you want it so badly,” Nate said with a smirk. 

“I know Fergus isn’t here, but you don’t have to tease me in his place,” she huffed, narrowing her eyes to glare at him, “You were watching.  You saw what happened to that other boy.”

“Did you just threaten me?” He laughed, and she hated it.  He made it very difficult to be cross with him. 

“You think I couldn’t take you?”

“No, I think that boy was an idiot who underestimated you,” he explained, all humor gone from his voice, “I’m not an idiot, and I’m definitely not going underestimate you.”

The butterflies in her stomach became restless again, and she puffed her chest out and crossed her arms to keep up the whole “offended” act. “Whatever,” she spat and pushed past him, “I’m going to change and cool off at the pond. 

“I’ll meet you down there, if you want company.”

Liss waved her hand at him dismissively instead of responding, even though she really wanted to give him an enthusiastic “yes!”  Of course she wanted company, but she did not want to seem too excited or give him the impression that she was no longer cross with him for teasing her.  She wasn’t, but he didn’t need to know that. 

Once inside the armory that stood adjacent to the training area, it did not take her long to kick off her boots, unfasten her gambeson, and strip down to just her linen undershirt and trousers.  She sighed, her skin free to breathe again, and hung the armor up on a rack with her boots down below it. She wouldn’t mind if she did not have to look at the stuff again for the rest of the summer, let alone wear it.  Eager to be outside and down at the pond with her toes in the water, she didn’t even bother to slip on shoes, running out the door and into the open air. 

The little pond, partially surrounded by trees, and located just outside the castle walls was an oasis amidst the summer heat.  It was one of the few places beyond the castle to which Liss had been allowed to venture on her own. Her parents constantly worried for her safety, particularly as a “lovely, young noblewoman.”  Apparently that made her a target or something like that, so she was not supposed to go to the city alone. She couldn’t even go near the city by herself. Dumb rules. Highever was her home and it was safe. They shouldn’t worry so much.

By the time Liss arrived, Nate was already standing near the edge of the water.  His back was to her, so she couldn’t see his face, but she figured he wore some sort of sad expression like he always did when he was thinking. Sometimes she wished he could just be happy, but then she imagined her papa treating her like Arl Howe treated him, and she didn’t figure she could be happy either.  

Shaking the bad thoughts away, an opportunity presented itself to her as she gauged the distance between herself and Nate, and between Nate and the water.  If she ran fast enough, and threw herself into him, she could push him into the water, a glorious payback for the teasing she endured. His back was turned and now was her chance.  She took off running, bracing herself for impact, and just as she reached him he stepped to the side casually. With no time to stop, she stumbled past him and plunged directly into the water.  

Liss pulled herself up to the surface, inhaled deeply, and wiped her now soaked hair from out of her eyes so that she could give Nate her most menacing scowl.  It didn’t seem to affect him, as he just laughed and shrugged. 

“I’m sorry, “ he said, but she couldn’t believe him with all the laughter that followed, “You should have believed me when I said I wasn’t an idiot.”

She rolled her eyes and moved toward the edge so that she could crawl out of the water  She enjoyed swimming, but not in her trousers. She cringed at the thought of the chafing that could occur.  As she reached the edge, Nate extended a hand out to her, an offer of assistance of which she took advantage and used to yank him down into the water with her. Got him. 

“Thought you said you weren’t going to underestimate me,” she teased as he rose surface looking about as thrilled as a wet cat. 

She expected him to grumble and protest, claim that he’d never help her again even though he wouldn’t mean it.  He didn’t do any of that though. Instead, a small smile formed at the corners of his mouth that turned into a bigger smile, and then he was laughing, truly laughing.   It was a lovely sound she’d not heard enough of. In fact, she couldn’t remember the last time she had.  

“I should have known I’d eat those words,” he said, shaking his head and pulling himself up out of the water.  Liss grinned followed him, and he offered her a hand again. It was a bold move considering what had just happened.  She accepted it graciously, and without funny business this time, allowing him to help her out.  

She flopped down on the grass with a sigh, reclining backward and cradling her neck with her hands, gazing up at the clouds.  She’d need to dry out a bit before she tried to move, unless she wanted to strip down to her smalls, which was absolutely out of the question.  In the corner of her eye, Nate did the same, lying back on the ground and looking up toward the sky. It reminded her of the many times when she was much younger that she and Fergus had watched the clouds together.  He always saw the goofiest things in them.  

 “Hey Nate,” Liss spoke, breaking the comfortable silence that had fallen between them. 

“Hey Liss.”

“Do you ever miss Delilah and Thomas when you’re here?”  She turned and rose up on an elbow so that she could look at him. 

“Sometimes,” he answered, his brows pressing together, “Why?”

“Fergus is visiting with Lady Oriana this summer.” 

“I’m sure he’ll be happy to know you miss him.”

“It’s not that,” she explained, “I mean, I do miss him, but I’m just… I’m afraid he’s going to forget me.”

“That’s ridiculous.” Nate smirked and laughed like he knew some secret she didn’t. “He’s not going to forget you.  You’re his _sister._ ”

“Then why hasn’t he written?” 

“He’s distracted,” he explained, staring off into the distance, “When you feel about someone like Fergus feels about Oriana, it’s hard to think about anything else.” 

“He loves her doesn’t he?” Her heart sank.  It shouldn’t make her sad, but it did. 

“He thinks he does.” 

Liss sighed and lay back down, closing her eyes.  There were a few more moments of silence before she spoke again. “Do you think you’ll ever love someone like Fergus loves Oriana?”

Nate shifted beside her, moving several times before he answered. “I... hope so.”

“Well, when you do,” she said, trying her best not to cry, “I’d really like it if you didn’t forget about me.” 

“I don’t think I could,” he reassured her, “Even if I wanted to.” 

Sometimes when Nate said things like that, it made her feel special.  She could almost convince herself that maybe he liked her, too. It had to just be in her head, though.  She was just like a dumb sister to him, talking his ears off and getting on his last nerve. Some day, he would find an Oriana, too, someone his father approved of, and he’d forget about her, no matter how much he said he wouldn’t.  She knew it.


	17. Choices

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A chance encounter in the Coastlands turns Nathaniel's life upside down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your patience with the update. This is a long chapter, but probably one of my most favorite so I took extra care with it! I hope you all enjoy it! :D

_**The Coastlands, 9:31 Dragon** _

  
Black smoke billowed up from Amaranthine City, filling the sky like quiet, brooding storm clouds. Though it had been days since Lucia had given the order to burn the capital of the arling to the ground, the last of the flames were yet to die out, and the hazy sky that resulted was a dark testament to the tragedy that occurred.  Difficult and ruthless as it was, she made the right decision. Nathaniel had said as much, though she didn’t believe it.

Just days before the darkspawn attack, Delilah had written to him to say that she and Albert fled the spread of disease in the city to stay with his family in Kirkwall.  Even before the Mother’s forces laid siege, Amaranthine was a lost cause. Lucia’s actions prevented more harm than they had caused, though the stubborn woman insisted upon blaming herself.  He could scarcely fault her for that either. She was a young mage, not a hardened general and it was difficult to watch a city burn, especially one that did so upon your own command. 

There was a flash of lighting, and thunder rang out, causing Nathaniel to jump, his attention shifting from the ruins in the distance to his more immediate surroundings.  The Coastlands stretched between Amaranthine and Highever and were known for their temperamental weather. Now, they were better known as the lands where the talking darkspawn stragglers fled.  When news of the creatures attacking villages and outposts in the area reached Vigil’s Keep, he offered to investigate and search for entrances to the Deep Roads. Velanna and Sigrun, the newest recruit, had asked to join him.  Though he would not say so directly, he was glad. Being a Warden, having comrades who cared for him, it was the first time since he’d spent his last summer with the Couslands that he felt like he truly belonged. Solitude no longer had the same appeal.

“Fenedhis,” Velanna hissed as another clap of thunder rattled the sky, introducing the subsequent downpour.  She pulled the hood of her cloak up over her head, grumbling. 

“You sure are jumpy for someone who’s lived on the surface your whole life,” Sigrun said, giggling, “Nate too.” 

“And you are surprisingly unaffected by the storms,” Velanna remarked dryly. 

“I’m used to it,” the dwarf answered with a shrug, “The Stone is loud when it moves.” 

Nathaniel laughed and pulled up his own hood, scanning the area around them for anything that could provide shelter from the cold, winter wind and rain.  They’d be no use against any darkspawn they encountered if they were soaking wet and freezing. He spotted a cliff several yards in the distance with a sizable overhang that would be suitable protection from the elements.

“We should take cover,” he explained, “Just until the storm lets up.” 

Velanna and Sigrun nodded, relieved expressions crossing each of their faces, as they made their way toward their temporary shelter.  The space beneath the overhang was actually larger than he expected, and even he was able to stand comfortably beneath it. He sat anyway.   He should rest while he had the opportunity. His blood vibrated in his veins as it did when darkspawn were nearby, and it was certain to be a long afternoon of scouting and fighting, not to mention the several hours of walking back to the Keep.  It wouldn’t have hurt the Warden-Commander to spare a horse or two. 

“You are quiet,” Velanna stated, voice as soft as she could manage, which was not actually that soft.  She was so accustomed to having to shout to be heard. It made sense. 

“I am always quiet, my lady,” he replied, with no effort to hide the smirk that twitched at the corners of his mouth, “Unlike yourself.”

“I am not -,” she began, stopping as she heard her own voice echo off the stone around them.  She crossed her arms and adjusted her voice to just more than a whisper. “I am not loud.” 

“I apologize,” he said, a twinge of guilt pricking at him, “I didn’t mean to make you self-conscious.”

“He was just flirting ,” Sigrun interjected without looking up from the dirt where she traced spirals with her finger, “He thinks its fun to tease you.” 

Velanna turned to look at him, brows furrowed, blinking in disbelief.  Nathaniel just shrugged in response. It wasn’t an inaccurate appraisal, after all. 

Velanna opened her mouth as if to speak, closed it, and then opened it again, but before she could do more than huff at him, she was interrupted by men shouting and a horse whinnying in distress.  The commotion came from the cliff just above them.  

Nathaniel rose to his feet and  grabbed his weapon. “I’ll check it out.” 

His companions nodded in response, each preparing themselves for battle, should it come to that, and he rushed out from beneath the overhang and up the hill that led to the ledge.  A group of four men in worn, rough leathers surrounded a cloaked figure in expensive plate, who sat atop a horse that looked twice as expensive as the armor. Bandits looking for profit, and some noble fool who was stupid enough to travel alone while flaunting his wealth.  He shook his head. He’d have to save the idiot.

 Nathaniel readied his bow, aimed, and shot in one fluid motion,  the arrow piercing the back of one unfortunate man’s knee just as he landed a blow to the fool’s arm, causing him to release the reins and fall from the horse.  The thug cried out in pain and collapsed to the ground as well, his comrades turning to face Nathaniel. 

One of the men, middle aged, carrying a shield decorated with an all-too-familiar bear, scowled and shouted, “Oh, look.  It’s a Warden. Bet his pretty little head is worth a fortune.”

“Them’s the ones that burnt the city,” added another, younger man—no, a boy— knuckles white against the hilt of his sword.  He couldn’t have been more than fifteen, trembling with tears filling his eyes. “My mum was in there. Little sister, too. You lot are _murderers._ ”  

“I lost my wife to the darkspawn,” said another, “Lost my son to the fire.  Heroes my arse,” He bounced his daggers in his hands and spat, and then flung one at Nathaniel.  Before he could move to dodge the projectile a wall of roots and vines surged up in front of him catching the dagger before receding back into the ground.  

“A knife-eared witch,” rasped the man on the ground, pointing a shaky finger at Velanna who now stood just behind Nathaniel.  

“What did you say, Shem,” Velanna growled, clenching her fists.  The ground around them trembled and Nathaniel stretched an arm out in front of her. 

“Don’t,” he said softly, 

“What?” She shook her head indignantly. "No!”

“Look at them,” Sigrun spoke, “They’re terrified, and they look like they haven’t eaten in days.”

“We haven’t,” the men chimed in unison. 

“We’ve got nowheres to go,” the boy added, a large tear visibly streaking down his face. “No money. Nothin’ to our names.”

“You meant to rob that man just to get by.” Sigrun furrowed her brows and frowned. She was thinking of Dust Town, no doubt. 

The men nodded, silent and stone-faced.  The hooded man who had remained remarkably still and quiet, clutching his wounded arm, had only been attacked because these men were desperate.  They were only desperate because they’d lost everything. The Wardens had cost them all but their lives. It didn’t matter how many people had been saved, the Wardens were villains in their eyes.  To them, the means would never be justified, regardless of the ends. 

“On behalf of the Grey Wardens,” Nathaniel said bowing his head, “I apologize for your losses, I-“

“What do you now of loss, Warden?”  The middle- aged man spoke calmly, despite the deep, disdainful lines on his forehead, and his stance that suggested he was ready to attack at any moment. 

“Me?” Nathaniel laughed a dry and empty laugh, reaching up to remove his hood despite the heavy rain that still fell.  “My name is Nathaniel Howe. In case you are unfamiliar: these were my family’s lands before the Wardens took them from us.  I am bitter, and I am angry, and there isn’t a day that goes by without me wishing I could have been here to make sure that this didn’t happen.” 

Nathaniel paused and scanned the faces of the men, noting their shock and bewilderment.  They all had lowered their weapons, and the boy had stopped his crying.  

“But I am also grateful.  You heard what happened at Ostagar, the West Hills.  Without the Wardens, there would be no lands left untainted by darkspawn filth.  I am sorry for what happened to your families, your homes. It was a difficult and terrible decision, but it was the right thing to do.  We desperately want to make things right -- I desperately want to make things right -- but that won’t happen if you go around killing us before we get the chance.” 

“Lord Howe,” the middle-aged man said with some degree of reverence.  His shield was clearly a symbol of his loyalty to the family. 

“I am no lord,” Nathaniel said, shaking his head, “Not anymore.” 

“But -.” 

“Here. “ He removed his coin purse from his belt and tossed it to the ground at the man’s feet, “There’s enough there to feed you and your men… and to fix that one’s leg.”  He motioned to the wounded man. 

“I… thank you.” 

“If you need refuge, you are welcome at Vigil’s Keep.  We’ve been providing shelter for those displaced by the darkspawn uprising.” 

“But we tried to kill you,” the boy protested. 

Nahaniel smirked.  “You’ll be surprised to know how little that matters to the Warden-Commander.” 

He sighed as he watched them walk away, hoping he’d made some difference, that they’d choose a better path.  There was no way to be sure.  

A warm hand squeezed his shoulder and he turned to see Velanna offering him a smile.  “As much as I would have loved to teach those shemlen a lesson, I believe you did the right thing.”

“I agree,” Sigrun added, a sad smile on her face as she, too, watched the men walk away. 

A rustling and scraping together of metal behind them reminded Nathaniel that the man he’d saved was still there, wounded.  He turned to see that the man had risen to his feet and removed the hood he’d been wearing. Nathaniel blinked several times at the sight of his face, a familiar face, and one he would never have expected to see in the middle of the Coastlands being attacked by starving refugee bandits.  

“Maker’s Blood.”  He took a few steps forward, examining the man more closely.  There were more lines on his face since the last time they’d seen one another, but there was no mistaking who he was.  Especially not when he smiled that wide, cheerful grin. “Fergus?”

“Little Nate,” Fergus replied, clicking his tongue, “All grown up, and a Grey Warden at that.”  

There was a long, heavy pause before he moved forward and embraced Nathaniel, who tensed at the sudden affection.  It was as tight and sincere a hug that could be managed with only one arm unwounded, ending with a rough pat on the back as Fergus pulled away.  For the first time Nathaniel could ever remember, there was an indescribable sadness behind the man’s eyes, and he didn’t know what to say. 

He didn’t have to, as Fergus spoke first.  “It’s good to see you, brother.” 

 _Brother._  It had been so many years, and there was so much strife between their broken remnants of families now, the term hardly felt deserved. 

“It’s good to see you, too,” Nathaniel said, still stunned.  This whole affair had been emotionally taxing to say the least, and now Fergus Cousland was standing in front of him.  Not dead, and a very solid, very real reminder of what Father had done. He looked down, rage and grief building in his chest again.  Then, he looked up. “I-.”

“I know what you’re going to say, Nate,” Fergus interrupted him, shaking his head, “And don’t.”

“Delilah told me what Father did,” Nathaniel explained, holding onto his composure by a thread, “I owe you an apology.”

“No you bloody don’t,” Fergus snapped, “You aren’t you’re father, and you’re not responsible for his actions. Besides, I’m sick of apologies.  It’s been the first thing out of everyone’s mouths when they see me. It’s a nice gesture and all, but no amount of sorry is going to bring my family back, you know?”

Nathaniel nodded.  “I know. I just… wish I could have been here.  I would have never let it happen. I’d have died first.” 

“I know.”  Fergus smiled somberly but then hissed and clutched at his wounded arm with the opposite hand, which was stained with fresh blood when he pulled it away. “Damn. It’s worse than I thought.”

“Velanna, do you think you can…” He trailed off, motioning vaguely at Fergus, his mind in a blur.

“I will see what I can do,” she answered, “But we will need to get out of this rain.”

“Good idea,” Sigrun said, teeth chattering,  “I’m starting to change my mind about this whole weather thing.”

They returned to their spot beneath the rocky overhang, Fergus walking along beside Nathaniel, clumsily.  He must have been disoriented from falling from horse which had run off during the fighting. Fergus said that he figured she hadn’t gone far and would wander back eventually. Either she was a well trained horse, or the man’s hopes were misplaced. 

It was still cold under the ledge, and it’d be difficult to start a fire with damp kindling and wood.  However, it was dry and illuminated well enough by the daylight that Velanna could get a better look at Fergus’ arm.  

Nathaniel sat quietly observing as Fergus introduced himself to the other Wardens, charming as ever.  Sigrun bantered back and forth with him playfully, but Velanna scoffed and rolled her eyes. She was probably a lot more entertained than she’d let on. 

“Can’t say I expected you to return to Ferelden after everything,” Fergus said, grimacing as Velanna pulled away his armor and the tattered bloody fabric just below his shoulder. 

“I had to see what happened for myself.” Nathaniel laughed.  “I planned to kill the Warden who destroyed my family and took our lands.

“And so you joined them instead?”

“I was conscripted, a pardon for theft.”

“Theft?” Fergus squinted. “You’re no thief.”

“The Wardens claimed some of the Howe heirlooms belonged to them.  I got caught trying to take some of them back.”

“Maker’s Breath… and they conscripted you for that?”

“It was that or the noose.” Nathaniel shrugged.  “I chose the noose, but the Warden-Commander refused, so here I am.  Killing sentient darkspawn and pissing off the people of Amaranthine.”

Fergus shifted uncomfortably as Velanna began to tend the wound. Without healing magic, it needed stitches, and stitches were painful.  Nathaniel wished he had something to offer him to cut the pain. It was a shame Oghren wasn’t around with a flask of whatever. Ever since he’d started to cut back, he was much more inclined to share. In fact, he’d been annoyingly pushy about it. Nobody wanted the ale he found in some dungeon somewhere. 

“That’s actually why I came out this way,” Fergus said through a pained growl, “I’d received word of some commotion in Amaranthine City, but nothing official from the Arlessa.”

“The Warden-Commander was busy putting out fires,” Nathaniel replied more defensively than he should have. 

“Seems more like she’s been busy starting them,” Fergus said with a wink and Nathaniel relaxed, “Sounds like it was necessary, though.”

“Unfortunately.”

There were a few moments of silence and Nathaniel spoke again hoping to change the subject from such an intense focus on himself.  “You’re the Teyrn now, huh.”

“Unfortunately,” he mimicked Nathaniel, before grinning.  Again, his smile only barely concealed his sadness. “It’s unbelievable to me that people would be so hungry for this kind of power.  It’s miserable. I miss my family. I’d be a poor, powerless man if it meant I could kiss my wife again, if I could tuck my son into bed.”

“I can’t imagine.” Nathaniel frowned, unsure what else to say besides an apology that Fergus would no doubt reject.  

“Elissa had it worse than I did, there in the castle, witnessing it all…” Fergus trailed off, eyes losing their focus briefly.  “She blames herself, you know. Wishes she could have died instead of my son as if the Maker would have been open to barter. You should really try to talk some sense into her. She might listen to you.”

For a moment time stood still, as Fergus’ words rang in Nathaniel’s ears.  Liss was alive. 

“What’s wrong, Nate?” He flinched as Velanna continued stitching the wound.  She looked up at Nathaniel briefly, meeting his eyes. Sigrun watched him as well, and Fergus continued. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I…”  He couldn’t quite form a meaningful message for his mouth to say. 

“You… you didn’t know my sister survived, did you?”

Nathaniel shook his head. “No.  My sister told me everyone who was in the castle that night died. I just assumed-.”

“You know better than to underestimate Liss,” Fergus scolded, “Fought her way out with a borrowed sword wearing nothing but her nightgown.  She’s a damn legend.”

“Where is she now?” Nathaniel’s breath was shallow and his heart raced up his throat as if it were going to crawl out of his mouth at the news. 

“Denerim, working for Queen Anora,” Fergus answered, smiling mischievously.  “You should pay her a visit. It’d make her entire year, I think.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?  Your father isn’t stopping you anymore.”

“It’s been nine years.” Nathaniel laughed and shook his head, despite his nagging desire to take off to the capital at that moment. “I’m sure she’s -.”

“What?  Happy and moved on?”  Fergus interrupted him.  “Hardly. I mean, she tried, but nobody ever mattered to her like you did. She never stopped waiting for you, even when she swore she had.”

“Oh, how romantic,” Sigrun said, clasping her hands together. 

“There,” Velanna announced abruptly as she finished tying up Fergus’ bandages.

“Thank you, Lady Velanna,” he chirped cheerfully. 

“Ugh. There’s two of them,” she groaned, and rolled her eyes. “You are welcome, I suppose.”

She wiped her hands off with a strip of cloth and busied herself with putting things back into her pack —loudly— and announced that she needed to take a walk, stomping out into the rain, which still lingered as just a light drizzle.  Fergus looked to Nathaniel, eyebrows raised in amusement, but Nathaniel just sighed. It wasn’t amusing. 

“Anyway,” Fergus said rising to his feet, “You should at least talk to her.  You’ll regret it for the rest of your life if you don’t.” 

“I will need to think about it,” Nathaniel stood as well, “I am not the same person I was when I left.”

“Neither is she.” Fergus laid a heavy hand on his shoulder and eyed him sincerely.  He hated that the man could still get to him like that

A horse whinnied behind them and Fergus’ face brightened.

 “There’s my girl,” he said, walking over and running a hand down the horse’s forehead and muzzle. He turned back to Nathaniel.  “Well, the storm’s let up. I suppose I should head out. Let you all get back to… wardening. Thanks for saving my arse back there.”

“Take care, Fergus.”

“Yeah, you too,” Fergus said, climbing up onto his horse, “Go talk to my sister, and don’t be a stranger.  We’re family.”

Nathaniel nodded, a smile spreading across his lips and Sigrun waved at his side. 

“It was nice to meet you, Lady Sigrun.  Lady Velanna, too, if you’ll pass along the message.”  

“Did you hear that?” Sigrun giggled, bringing a hand to her face, as they watched Fergus ride off in the direction of Highever. “He called me a lady.” 

Nathaniel was silent in response, aching already at Fergus’ departure.  As fraught with emotion as their reunion was, it had been good. He’d missed the man, someone who’d so readily accepted him as a friend and brother.  Perhaps they’d have more time to catch up in the future, especially if Liss, well, if he went to her in Denerim. If nothing else went horribly wrong. 

“What are you going to do?” Sigrun asked, eyes blinking up at him. 

“I’m going to find Velanna,” he answered, knowing that wasn’t what she meant, but hoping to avoid a discussion about it. “Then, I’m going to kill whatever darkspawn are nearby making my blood itch.” 

It did not take long to locate Velanna, who sat in the grass, leaning against a large tree that looked as if it had been split in two by lightning.  She stared off into the distance, forehead wrinkled and twisting the tattoos that marked her face.  

“There you are,” he said, sitting down beside her.  “I’d ask if you’re okay, but considering the way you stormed off, I think I already know the answer.”

“I apologize for leaving as I did.” She shook her head.  “It was juvenile.”

“My conversation with Fergus upset you, didn’t it?”

“As foolish as that sounds, yes. It did.” Velanna brought her eyes up to meet his briefly before looking away. “I have always been an outsider.  Lonely. Misunderstood. Excluded even by my own kind. I thought that it was some sort of flaw in me, that it was how I deserved to be treated. It’s not as if I had any reason to believe otherwise.

“Then I met you, a human, a noble...the epitome of everything I should hate, and yet I could not.  Besides Seranni, you were the first person to ever treat me as if I was worthy of kindness before I did anything to earn it, or before I scared it out of you.  On top of that you gave me compliments, called me beautiful. It would be hard for anyone not care for you after that, I should think.”

“You would be surprised,” he answered, dryly, “Justice did not take kindly to my compliments about his complexion.  The rotten bastard called me disingenuous.”

“You were being disingenuous,” she said laughing slightly, “With him. Not with me.”

“No.” He shook his head, tone serious. “I meant what I said to you.  Still do.”

“That woman you all spoke about, his sister.  She is the person you could never move on from isn’t she?”

“Yes,” Nathaniel admitted, “I have been in love with her since I was just a boy, though I was never allowed to say as much.”

Velanna was quiet, and he worried for a moment that she would lash out at him, furious that he led her on, but she didn’t.  Instead, she just smiled and sighed. “I envy her.”

The soft acceptance pierced him more deeply than any amount of anger could have.  “Velanna, I’m sorry. I would not have been so forward with you had I any idea whatsoever that she was alive.”

“I know that,” she assured him.  Her small hand was warm to the touch as she placed it over his.  “Please do not be sorry. I’m not.”

“But-,” he began, interrupted by the soft pressure of her lips against his cheek. 

“I am disappointed, but that is all,” she said, laying her head on his shoulder.  “I will get over it, and I would like it if we could still be friends.”

“I’d like that, too.”

Taking a deep breath, Nathaniel wrapped an arm around her shoulders, and they sat in silence for several moments before Velanna spoke again, moving out from under his arm to glare at him. “You have to tell her how you feel, Nathaniel.  You would be a fool to let her go again.”

“I know,” he said, rising to his feet and offering a hand to her, “As soon as we take care of these darkspawn stragglers and return to the Vigil, I will ask for leave to go to Denerim.”

“Good.” Velanna took his hand and allowed him to help her up. “I will harass you if you do not.”

“At this point, I think everyone is going to harass me if I don’t.”

By the time they found Sigrun, she had -- to no one’s surprise -- already dealt with a half-dozen darkspawn, and made a much-deserved prod at Nathaniel and Velanna for being “lazy bones.”  They had not exactly been lazy, but they also had not been fighting hurlocks either. Altogether it only took a couple of hours to scout the area and finish off the remaining creatures. They located only one Deep Roads entrance in the area, and boarded it up so that some unfortunate wanderer would not stumble into it accidentally, and set out on the return trip to Vigil’s Keep.  One of the experts there could seal the hole properly at a later date. 

It was not until the next morning that Nathaniel sought out Lucia to request permission to travel to the capital.  He and the others had not arrived back at the Keep until late at night, and he’d been too emotionally and physically exhausted to do anything but take a bath and collapse into bed.  No doubt the Warden-Commander would grant him permission. She would most likely wonder why he even felt the need to ask her. Still, regardless of their friendship, she remained his commanding officer, and he intended to give her the formality and respect she deserved. 

He made his way to the Great Hall, intending to visit Lucia in her office, which was just off it’s east wing.  The office had previously belonged to his father, and he was never allowed in there. He wondered what the man had been hiding, if anything at all.   He was stopped in his path by Garavel, the former Guard Captain who was promoted to Seneschal in the wake of Varel’s heroic demise.  

“Warden Howe,” he shouted, his voice reverberating throughout the hall, “I take it you are looking for Warden-Commander Amell.” 

“Yes.”

“She’s not there,” Garavel stated with some hesitation. 

“You seem concerned, Seneschal.”

“We don’t actually know _where_ the Warden-Commander is right now,” the man explained, “Some of the guards saw her leave her quarters in the middle of the night, but she has yet to return.”

“Was she armored?”

“The guards said she was just wearing nightclothes…” he trailed off as Nathaniel shook his head and sighed.  “What is it?” 

“I know where she is,” said Nathaniel, turning to exit the hall. He grabbed a woolen blanket from the storage bin conveniently placed by the main door.  “Thank you, Seneschal.”

The battlements that surrounded Vigil’s Keep were extensive, encompassing the entire courtyard, as well as the castle itself.  When he was a boy, Nathaniel had often sought refuge from his father’s wrath up there. If anything, it kept him out of the way during the worst of it.  Father had lacked the patience to search the entire length of the wall for him. He suspected that’s what had happened with Lucia and the guards. He’d run into her up there several times, often late at night and completely underdressed for the weather.  She seemed to have as much trouble sleeping as he did, perhaps more.

Certainly enough he found her, elbows on the parapet, looking out over the Keep.  She did not hear him at first, and he took a moment to watch her as she twisted what appeared to be the dried up remnants of a rose between her fingers.  There were tears in her eyes, and she looked so broken and sad. It was too intimate and not for him to see. He shifted uncomfortably, preparing to walk away and attempt to speak with her again later, but she heard him, hurriedly wiping a tear from her cheek and straightening her posture.  

“Nathaniel?”  She furrowed her brows at him as he moved forward to stand by her side. 

“Sorry to disturb you.  Some of the guards saw you leave your quarters in the middle of the night, and Garavel was worried when you did not return.  I figured I might find you up here, attempting to freeze to death,” he explained, unfolding the blanket and draping it over her shoulders, “If you want to die, I can think of a hundred more noteworthy ways to go about it.” 

“I’m not trying to freeze to death,” she snapped, pulling the blanket more tightly around her, “I just… couldn’t sleep.”

“Troubled?”  It was none of his business, really, but he had to ask.  He leaned forward and joined her in resting her elbows on the parapet. 

“I’m fine.  Just restless.”  She looked straight ahead, off into the distance, and sighed. 

“You know, you’re an excellent commander, but a piss poor liar.”  He looked at her, then down to the flower in her hand, nodding at it. “What’s that?”

She laughed humorlessly and looked at him.  “My latest weapon of choice.”

“A withered rose?”  It appeared he was not the only with difficult feelings he’d rather avoid. 

Lucia shrugged. “It’s poetic.”

“Right.”  He rolled his eyes, grateful she was his friend as well as his commanding officer.  Any other commanding officer might be offended by the sheer insubordination. “Permission to speak candidly?”

“Always.” 

“I’m not sure what is on your mind right now, and I’m not going to ask.  Whatever it is, though, you’re thinking entirely too much about it.” 

“That’s a bit hypocritical, don’t you think?”  She raised her eyebrows and grinned. “I believe “brooding” is the term Anders uses to describe you.” 

“Maybe so,” he conceded, “But, just from experience alone, I know that it’s stupid to waste so much time thinking about all the things that could go wrong that you lose something important to you.” 

“It’s unwise to act without thinking things through,” she argued, “That’s how you end up hurt: making rash choices.” 

“Failure to act is also a rash choice.” 

“I… I don’t know what to do, Nathaniel,” she exclaimed, throwing her hands up, voice cracking, “I feel like every decision I’ve made in the past year has been wrong.  I made sound, logical choices and they all had horrible consequences. People got hurt. People important to me. I don’t want that to happen again.” 

“People always get hurt, even when you do the right thing ,” he said gently, his own voice raw with emotion, “Sometimes, all you can do is go with your gut, and hope it works out.  You have to trust yourself. I learned that the hard way.” 

“How does one go with one’s gut,” asked the woman who had clearly never made an impulsive decision in her life.

“If you could do anything in the world you wanted right now without consequence, what would you do?”  

“I’d go to Denerim,” Lucia replied almost instantly.  Nathaniel couldn’t help but smirk at her coincidental answer. 

“Then you need to go to Denerim.”

“Just like that?”

“Just like that,” he answered with a nod, “It’s funny because I actually came up here to ask for leave to go to Denerim.  I have some business to attend to there, myself.”

“That’s ironic,” she laughed, “When shall we leave?”

“Now, if you’re up for it.” 

Lucia tensed up and blinked several times.  “Now? Right now?”

“Yes.  Right now.   I’m tired of both of us moping about.”   He whirled around as he spoke, waving for her to follow, and she did.  

For better or worse, they were bound for Denerim.


	18. Enough Room for the Maker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Teenage Nathaniel has a lot going on in his life, and his return to Highever does not go exactly as he expects it to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks all for the patience with my updating. I've been busy these past few weeks, and it's just taken a bit more time than usual! This is a very fun, very dialogue-heavy chapter with a lot of information that'll be important for later, so I hope you all enjoy!

_**Highever, 9:21 Dragon** _

It had been an interesting year for Nathaniel, to say the least.  In fact, interesting was a rather positive spin on the things that transpired since his prior visit to Highever.  Fergus’ involvement with “that Antivan tart” enraged Father as it effectively ruined his chances of a match between the heir to Highever and Delilah.  It was a similar rage to that which he displayed when Teyrn Cousland refused to arrange a marriage between Thomas and Liss. He’d spent much of the year fussing about being “thwarted at every turn.”  Perhaps Nathaniel had been too young to understand it before, but he could see now, the alliance between the Howes and Couslands was very much one-sided and based upon conditions. Conditions that were slowly slipping out of his father’s grasping fingers. 

It seemed the man’s primary mission in life had become finding suitable matches for all three of his children, including Nathaniel, which was particularly odd considering all previous indications suggested that his father wanted him alone and miserable. “Suitable” also meant that he was still not permitted to pursue Liss, however.  His father still held onto hope that Thomas could woo her and Nathaniel was thrust in front of countless minor lords and their beautiful, yet ridiculously passive daughters with personalities like sacks of flour.

It was unfair of him, he knew.  They were perfectly lovely young women who he was certain would come out of their flour sacks with time and attention.  They just weren’t her. Nobody ever would be. The thought that he might forever be dissatisfied worried him terribly. It also caused him to resent his little brother.  Cheerful, handsome, Thomas with his curled ringlets of hair and dark eyes who looked so much like Mother it ached. He did not deserve hard feelings, and Nathaniel was cautious to never show them.

“Nate,” Thomas had asked one day, hovering at the doorway to his room, “Can I talk to you about something?”

Nathaniel sat his book down, and straightened up. “You can always talk to me, Tom.”

“Can we,” he looked down and wrung his hands, an unusual self-conscious state for the boisterous boy, “Go somewhere nobody will hear?”

“I’m sure that if you come in and shut the door nobody will hear. What’s the matter?” 

Thomas had just lowered his head somberly and refused to say a word until Nathaniel agreed to walk up to the secluded portion of the battlements with him.  He would have told Thomas to find Delilah instead if it hadn’t seemed so urgent. She was better at the whole talking and reassuring thing.   

“So,” Nathaniel said with a sigh as he leaned out over the battlements,  spring wind rustling his hair. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on, or am I supposed to guess?”  He smiled to show he was not as irritated as he sounded. 

“I don’t want to marry that Cousland girl,” Thomas blurted, slamming his fists on the parapet. 

“You wouldn’t be marrying her now, Tom.” He  laughed despite the bitterness. 

“I don’t want to marry her ever.”

“Why not,” Nathaniel asked, offended and relieved at the same time, “What’s wrong with her?”

“Nothing,” he explained, “And that’s the problem. She’s beautiful and perfect and I see why you love her, but I don’t think I ever could. Not like that at least.”

“Like what,” Nathaniel teased though he knew what his brother meant and Thomas shot him a look that could have killed. 

His brother sighed and slumped forward, elbows on the parapet, face in his hands. “That’s why I wanted to talk to you.  I need to tell you something, and you can’t tell Father or Delilah or anyone.” 

“You have my word.”

“Remember when you told me that you sometimes think that other boys are just as beautiful as girls?” He rose up and fidgeted when Nathaniel nodded.

“Well… I have never seen a girl that I liked in that way, ever.  I thought I just hadn’t, you know, seen the right one yet, but…” Thomas trailed off,  shook his head, and furrowed his brows thoughtfully. “I just don’t think I like girls.”

“I see,” Nathaniel said with a sympathetic nod.

“I’ll still do what I’m supposed to,” Thomas asserted, lifting his chin proudly, “I’ll marry a pretty girl, have a family, carry on the name.  I’ll do as Father asks, but it won’t be with Elissa.” 

“Tom.”  No fourteen year old boy should have to be thinking about such things.  No sixteen year old boy should either. Not really. 

“I’m not going to do that to you.  Or her. It would just make you both hate me, I think.”  He nodded decisively. 

“I appreciate that,” Nathaniel said, placing a hand on Thomas’ shoulder and meeting his gaze, “But how in Andraste’s name are you going to keep Father off your arse about it?”

“I will be horribly bad at wooing,” Thomas laughed, “Actually, I might not have to pretend.  Father might even ask you to take me under your wing and teach me.”

“You act like I’m some expert or something.  I promise you I’m not.” 

“Then how come I saw you kissing all those banns’ daughters?” Thomas elbowed him.

“You saw that?”  He panicked briefly, attempting to remember which bann’s daughters.  They were all the same to him in that they were not Liss. Memorable as kissing washcloths.  He was a horrible person. 

“You weren’t exactly hiding it, in the middle of the courtyard like that.” 

“Well, they offered.  It would have been rude to refuse,” Nathaniel said matter-of-factly and then sighed, “I have to make father believe I am at least trying.  If he thinks I am holding out to be with Liss… I don’t know that he will let me go back to Highever.” 

“Oh. Right.” Thomas frowned.  “I think it’s stupid father won’t let you be with her.  I don’t know why it needs to be me. You’re the heir. He should let you be the heir.”

“I don’t even know that she would want to be with me,” he answered, shaking his head, “But, thank you, Tom.  That means a lot to me.”

That conversation had been just weeks ago, but it still rang so clearly in Nathaniel’s mind as he hopped from the carriage, grabbed his things, and made his way to the gates of Highever’s Castle.  Its grey stone walls stood just as they had years ago, stark against the pleasant backdrop of the Waking Sea. It was not nearly as imposing as it had been when he’d first visited. In fact, nothing was as imposing as it had been back then, not even his father.

Thomas’ decision to deceive Father motivated Nathaniel to consider the same.  What would be the harm in confessing his feelings to Liss, after all? If she reciprocated, he could explain that it would need to be a secret until he was old enough that he could tell his father where to shove his stupid rules.  She would understand, surely. Still, there would always be the danger of them being found out by others and father punishing him, shaming her. There was also the possibility that Liss would not feel the same. Then what?  
  
He shook his head, and trudged forward.  It didn’t matter considering that he was too much of a bloody coward. 

”Ho,” Fergus greeted with a cheerful wave as Nathaniel entered the courtyard through the castle gates, “Welcome back, Nate!”

A woman stood at his side, tall and slender with auburn hair that was braided and decorated with metal pieces that glinted in the sunlight.  Her clothing was unusual and far from being practical enough to be of Ferelden make. Fergus’ hand clutched her waist comfortably, as she looked up at him with an almost sickening admiration.  

“Fergus,” he called back, closing the distance, and directing his attention to the woman and bowed his head respectfully, “You must be Lady Oriana.”

“I am not a lady,” she replied with a chuckle, her accent thick and charming, “But my Fergus has told me it would be pointless to argue with you about it.”

“Probably,” Nathaniel said, shrugging and smiling.  

“That’s just Nate,” Fergus explained, moving away from Oriana and drawing Nathaniel in a brief hug, “He’s like that with everyone.  I think he’d be a big hit if he ever visited a brothel.”

“Fergus,” Oriana gasped, scandalized.

“What?” He continued with a laugh despite her bright blue eyes glaring up at him. “I’m just saying he’d make several ‘ladies’ there blush with all that chivalry of his.”

She scolded him again, shaking her head this time and turning her eyes to Nathaniel, “I apologize on his behalf.  I don’t know what’s gotten into him.”

“No, I’m sorry,” Nathaniel laughed, “You’re the one who has to put up with him.” 

“Someone has to,” she said, pressing a kiss to his cheek and tousling his hair.  

“Damn it, woman,” Fergus grumbled and raked his fingers through his hair to smooth it back down.  

“Uh-uh,” Oriana replied, wagging her finger, “According to Nathaniel, I’m a lady.  You should address me accordingly.”  
  
“‘Damn it, my lady,’ just sounds ridiculous.”

“How is that any different from the rest of the things you say?” Nathaniel chimed in and Oriana laughed. 

“I like him,” she exclaimed. 

“Unfortunately, so do I,” Fergus remarked dryly. 

“Well,” she said, looking between the two of them, “Who am I to keep you from catching up?  Besides, I am due for some evening tea with your mother and Elissa.” 

“ Maker, don’t keep them waiting.  Mum’ll get bored and pick a fight, and Liss will stomp off to her room crying.” 

“If your sister even shows up.”  Oriana frowned and looked down at the ground, kicking at the grass. 

“She will,” Fergus said softly, tilting her chin up and kissing her briefly on the lips.  It was both endearing and annoying. ”She gave me her word.” 

With that, Oriana turned and headed toward the entrance to the main hall, Fergus watching her proudly as she left.  He turned to Nathaniel, scowl painting his face as soon as she was out of sight.  

“I hope Liss shows up,” he remarked tersely, bringing his hand to his face. “She’s always loved older girls, looked up to them.  Now, there’s one that’s actually important to me, and she doesn’t seem to like her.”

“That’s not it.” Nathaniel shook his head, recalling a conversation he had with her the previous summer. 

“Oh?”

“She’s worried that you are going to forget about her, now that you’re in love.” 

“That’s… dumb.  I would never! She’s my sister, for Andraste’s sake. Why would she think that?” 

“Maybe because you forgot to write to her while you were away.”

“I did, didn’t I,” he asked wistfully, “I was just...er, distracted.”

“Right.  Of course,” Nathaniel laughed, “She made me promise I wouldn’t forget about her, when I fall in love, too.” 

“Are you ever going to tell her how you feel?” Fergus tilted his head to the side and looked at him with a concerned expression. 

Nathaniel just shrugged and Fergus seemed to accept that as an answer as he didn’t press further. Instead, he changed the subject, sharing stories from his summer away in Antiva to meet Oriana’s family.  He spoke very briefly about the country and her family, choosing to save the painstaking detail for the things he and Oriana had and had not done while they were there and since they’d been back, and Nathaniel could have done without knowing most of it.  Still, he wasn’t going to interrupt. 

Eventually, the conversation dwindled and Nathaniel parted with Fergus, tired from the long trip, and desperately wanting to drop his things down on the floor in his room and flop face first into the bed.  He’d speak with everyone else in the morning. 

Turning the knob and pushing open the heavy wooden door with his shoulder, Nathaniel looked up to see that the room was occupied.  Rather intimately so, as two very familiar girls sat on the bed, arms wrapped around one another, fingers tangled in hair as they kissed.  His heart sank, and he stiffened, clearing his throat to make sure they noticed he was there. He had no right to be upset and yet jealousy boiled under his skin at the sight of Liss and Rila together.  

Both girls darted their heads toward Nathaniel with horrified expressions, scooting apart so that they were a polite distance away from one another, what Delilah would have called “leaving enough room for the Maker.” 

“N-nate,” Liss said, standing up and straightening her skirt.  It was the first time since the first summer that she hadn’t embraced him first thing.  Instead, she bit her lip and looked frantically between him and Rila who looked as if she were about to cry. “I’m in your room again.” 

“You are,” he acknowledged with a nod, “But don’t let me spoil the fun.  I’ll just set my things down and come back later.”

“No, no,” she rushed to him and placed her hands on his arm. “You don’t have to--.” 

“Liss,” Rila interrupted, voice strained with emotion, “You promised it would be safe here.”

“It is.  It’s just Nate, and he won’t tell anyone,” she insisted, then looked at him with a plea in her eyes, “You won’t tell anyone, right?”

“No,” he said and watched the relief wash over her face.  He could not say the same for the elven girl who still looked at them both with wide eyes. 

“I’m sorry,” Rila muttered shaking her head and pushing past them to leave the room, “I”m going to… go.” 

“Ri! Wait,” Liss called after her, but she didn’t listen, “Ugh.” 

 Liss sighed and groaned, walking back to Nathaniel’s bed and flopping down backwards, hands pressed into her face.  Nathaniel stood frozen in place, not certain what would be appropriate to say or do in such a situation. He only knew that it would be wrong to let his hurt feelings change the way he treated her. 

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled from beneath her own hands, “I’m stupid and I’m sorry.” 

Nathaniel laughed and dared to walk over and sit down on the bed beside her. “You’re not stupid.” 

“Oh, but I am.  Papa told me you’d be coming today, and I didn’t even think... “ She shook her head. “I’m embarrassed.” 

“It’s pretty embarrassing,” Nathaniel echoed, and Liss glared up at him through her fingers. “What? It’s the truth.”

“I’d say it wasn’t what it looked like, but it is exactly what it looked like,”  Liss sat up and crossed her legs beneath her. She laughed and shook her head. “What must you think of me?”

“Nothing bad,” he said, unconsciously bringing a hand up to brush a loose curl from her face, but retracting it quickly when he realized what he was doing. “Kissing is nice.” 

“It really is,” she explained, “And with all of this Fergus and Oriana stuff, I’ve just felt so lone -- oh no.”

“What’s wrong?”

“I was supposed to have tea with Mama and Oriana,” she tapped her forehead with the heel of her hand repeatedly. “I promised Fergus, and I really meant to go this time.  I just got… distracted. I should go talk to him.”

“Good idea.” 

Liss stood up.  “I should also go talk to Rila, shouldn’t I?”

“Probably.”

She nodded at him and smiled, scurrying out the door and closing it behind her.  A few seconds passed before the door swung back open and Liss ran back into the room.  She threw her arms around him and squeezed tightly, pressing her lips to his cheek and pulling away.  

“Welcome back, Nate, ” she said in a way that warmed his whole body, “I missed you.  We can catch up tomorrow, okay?”

Nathaniel nodded and Liss whirled around and exited the room, leaving him to go to bed as he originally intended.  He laid down, closed his eyes, and hoped the full pain in his chest would go away eventually.


	19. Predictable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Home is where the hurt is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a trigger warning. There are some mentions of trauma symptoms. Take care of yourselves.

_**The Fereldan Countryside, 9:31 Dragon** _

Cold, morning air pricked Liss’ skin as her eyes flickered open, blinking away the darkness of sleep.  She shuddered even beneath two heavy blankets, warmed only by the memory of the night before that made her face burn hot and her stomach flutter.  It could very well have been a dream. Her imagination was fairly vivid, after all, and it was not uncommon for her to dream about kissing handsome men under the stars.  Those dreams, however, had ceased since the night her family died. She only had bad dreams now. 

No, kissing Alistair wasn’t a dream, nor was him holding her afterward, sharing his warmth until she fell asleep.  Perhaps he had fallen asleep, too. She couldn’t remember, but she could still smell him in her hair and on her clothes, and her lips still tingled with the memory of his.  A smile twitched at those same lips as she sat up and stretched briefly before drawing the blankets back up around her. Damn the winter for existing.  

Looking around the makeshift camp, she noticed Alistair standing near the horses, still as a statue, staring off in the distance toward Amaranthine.  Remnants of smoke clouds lingered in the sky. What had the Wardens done? Were they all right? She supposed Alistair probably wondered the same. 

Liss rose to her feet and walked over to him, footsteps intentionally loud so as to not startle the jumpy man.  Closing the distance, she slid her arms through his and clasped her hands over his abdomen, pressing her cheek against his back.  He tensed beneath her touch, spine stiffening and he held his breath. 

“Oh, sorry,” she said, pulling away from him quickly, “I didn’t mean to startle you.” 

“You didn’t.  Not exactly,” he answered with a heavy sigh as he turned to face her, pointing toward the smokey sky, “That’s Amaranthine, isn’t it?”

Liss just nodded slowly and watched concern wash over Alistair’s face, knitting his brow and causing his lower lip to tremble.  Maker, was he going to cry?

“Well,” he announced very suddenly, wiping at his eyes with a thumb and index finger that he brought together to pinch the bridge of his nose.  He sniffed and continued, “It’s probably just… a funeral pyre to destroy all the rotten darkspawn corpses. Can’t leave them just lying about. That’s how you get diseases.” 

“Ali,” Liss soothed, placing a hand on his cheek.

Alistair put his large hand over hers, which she had never thought to be small until now, and squeezed it briefly before dragging it down and away from his face and letting go.  He brought his eyes up to look at her, and the expression shattered her heart. She knew what that look meant, where it led, and that she had nobody and nothing to blame but her own impulsive self.  Instinctively, she took a step back from him.

“Liss, I’m so… sorry,” Alistair said.  It was an introduction, a preface to what he actually wanted to say. 

“This is about the kiss, isn’t it?” She stole the gut punch from him.  If she said all the things first, it couldn’t hurt her as much. “I knew I should have asked.  It was a dumb, careless idea. I’m an idiot.”  

“Yes, I mean no...um.”  Alistair huffed and tried again. “What I mean to say is: Yes. This is about the kiss, but no you’re not an idiot.”

“Was it bad?” That was a dumb, pointless question that just fell out of her mouth. 

“Maker, no. No! It was very nice,” he answered waving his hands frantically and then settling, “But it shouldn’t have happened.”

”I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to overstep. I’m just horrible at reading people sometimes.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” He reached out as if to touch her shoulder, but stopped and let his hand fall to his side. “You didn’t overstep. I…enjoyed it, but it was wrong.”

“Why?” She hated the hurt in her voice but was unable to stop it.  She laughed to brush it off and added, “It was just a kiss.”

“No it wasn’t, Liss.” Alistair dropped his head, “It meant something.”

“Is it so bad for it to mean something?”

“Yes.” He brought his eyes back up to hers again. The word was hard, cold, even in his sympathy, that he might as well have thrown an icicle at her. “It’s just - ”

“I understand,” she said just as coldly, and moved to start packing up her things if only to keep him from seeing her cry. “It is pretty obvious that your heart is elsewhere.”

“Liss,” he muttered and she snapped her eyes up to him causing him to look away. 

“No, I get it.” She laughed angrily, and it wasn’t even Alistair she was mad at, not really. “It’s hard to move on from something special.  Sometimes you waste years and years of your life trying to fill that hole, but nothing ever does. Nothing even comes close. Maybe you even start to realize that you’re not really you without that person, and that your best memories are with them.  Only now, they’re gone, and the thought of that person makes you unbearably sad. So you shut it out, you make jokes, and you convince everyone you’re fine, but you’re not. You’re miserable, and the only person who can fix it, the only one in the world you want to see, isn’t there.”

Liss began to roughly ready her horse, and continued, “Maybe you end up kissing a good friend on a whim for comfort. It’s nice and warm and you feel whole again, but it’s just for a moment because surprise, you’ve somehow now made yourself feel ten times worse than you did before, damned for even trying to be happy.”

Alistair blinked at her silently and frowned. “I didn’t tell you about any of that.”

“I never said it was about you,” Liss answered through her teeth and climbed up onto her horse, “Come on.  We can talk about this later if you wish. Right now, I just really want to see my brother.”

Painful, awkward silence hovered over them as they made the final leg of their journey to Highever, and Liss was haunted with the immediate echo of the things she’d said.  Out loud. She squirmed in her saddle and focused every ounce of her energy on not thinking about it, yet she still thought about it anyway. About him. Nate. It finally happened.  Years of hiding and hurting and it all came out just like that. They were feelings she didn’t need. Especially not as she was about to face home for the first time since… well, everything. 

As soon as they reached the city gates, Alistair parted with Liss to pay his respects to Duncan as she made her way to her family’s castle.  She stood at the gates for what felt like an eternity, staring up the length of the large wooden doors while her stomach twisted into increasingly intricate knots.  A warrior stomach, it was, braided for the battle to come. 

“I’m ready,” she said with a deep breath, nodding to the guards who pushed open the doors and held them for her to enter in to the courtyard.  It was quiet and empty, as it was in the winter, the only signs of life were the soldiers that lined the battlements. She passed another pair of guards through another set of doors to reach the main hall, large, open, and warm.  It was filled with the sound of chatter and servants milling about at their jobs. 

“Lady Cousland,” one woman exclaimed, clearly recognizing Liss, though Liss could not return the recognition.  “We were not expecting you.”

“My apologies,” Liss answered, “I know it is polite to send word ahead.”

“No matter,” the woman said, “The Teyrn is in the middle of a meeting with some representatives from Amaranthine, but I will let him know you are here.”

“Thank you, uh…”

“Isobel, milady.” 

“Thank you, Isobel,” Liss said with a smile, “You can tell the Teyrn that I will be wandering the halls.  He’ll have to find me.” 

Isobel eyed her curiously, likely due to the complete deviance from etiquette, but bowed anyway and left to retrieve Fergus.  Liss remained in the main hall for a few moments, breathing and taking in the scenery. It looked as it always had, smelled as it always had, and sounded the very same.  Yet it was a different place entirely. Everything that had once made it home was gone. Liss did not know what to make of it, nor if it could ever feel like home again. Tears burned in her eyes at the thought of all that Howe had taken from her.  

She tore away from the main hall, not wanting to be seen were she to lose her composure, and ambled up a flight of stairs that led to the living quarters.  A mistake, she knew, but the only relatively private place in the castle. Her chest tightened, breath becoming panicked and shallow as she approached the door to her room.  Each time she blinked she could see pools of blood on the floor. She heard screams and smelled iron, remembered Oren and Oriana’s lifeless faces. It was all her fault. Thoughts raced and swirled in her head. She should have stopped it, done more, died trying.  All the things she’d only revisited in nightmares were crashing down on her all at once and she was suffocating.   

Liss passed by her own room frantically, unable to even look at it, opting instead to turn down an adjacent hallway, the guest wing, running until she reached the very end.  She turned to face the door immediately to her right, the last room in the hall. It was Nathaniel’s, or at least the one he had used during his summers there. How many times had she run down that hall to hide, to be comforted, to see her friend? How many times had she gone into his room when he wasn’t there just to feel closer to him, or just because it felt like the safest place in the world? Of course her feet carried her there now.  It only made sense. 

Grabbing a torch from the wall, she pressed down on the door knob gently, hand shaking, and let herself into the room.  It was dark and cold from too many vacant days, but otherwise the same as she remembered it, perhaps the only place in the castle untouched by recent events. She hung the torch in an empty sconce and moved to examine the rows of dusty books that lined the shelves. Most were boring, standard-issue texts on the history of Ferelden, tactical manuals, and refuse from Aldous’ collection.  One book stood out, however. It was smaller, leather bound, and crammed between two volumes of Brother Genetivi’s writings. She pulled it out and examined the cover as she kicked off her boots. _Fereldan Myths and Folklore._  

She’d read the book many times over, of course. It was nothing new, but perfect for keeping her mind busy until Fergus came for her.   She climbed up on the bed and sat, back straight against the headboard. As she fanned through the pages, she frowned at the sight of a page that had been folded down at the corner.  It was one of the shorter tales in the book, a chilling legend called “The Baroness of the Blackmarsh.” Her heart fluttered as she noticed charming little letters in black ink, straight and sharp-edged, cluttering the margins at the sides.  _Nate._

The tale was simple.  It warned travelers of the Blackmarsh to be wary as they wandered through, making sure to think of the Maker, place Prophet’s Laurel under the tongue, and carry a vial of Lyrium to ward away the demons that whispered in the dark.  Supposedly people who passed through the Blackmarsh reported hearing voices, seeing faces of the dead in the water, and becoming tangled in trees that grabbed at their clothing like gnarly, jagged hands. These events were blamed on a wicked baroness who practiced blood magic to maintain her youth and beauty.  The Veil was bound to be thin in such places after all.   

Liss glanced over to read Nate’s notes at the side. 

“Not the whole story.  Baroness was well-loved by her people after she saved them from a dragon.  Something bad must have happened.”

She smiled.  Leave it to Nate to take a folk legend seriously.  Then again, hadn’t he visited the Marsh? Perhaps there was more truth to the myth than it seemed.  She scanned her eyes over the rest of the page, noting another brief message at the bottom.

“Liss, if you read this while I’m gone, I’m not being too serious, so stop thinking it.”

Liss flinched and read the words again.  How dare he presume what she was thinking about him, even nine or more years ago, whenever the stupid note was written.  And how dare he assume she’d pilfer through his things. She may have invaded his personal space on a regular basis, but she drew the line at pilfering. Arse. 

Still, the smile that curved at her lips deepened and tears dripped onto the page as she ran her fingers over the writing.  The droplets startled her, and she reached up to wipe them from her face, unaware that she was even crying. Maker, she missed him, and it was easier to breathe just admitting to it.  She missed him. 

“There you are,” a familiar voice rang out, causing her to start.  She looked up to see Fergus standing in the doorway, a sad, knowing grin on his face, “I should have known to look here first.” 

“Am I so predictable?” 

“Yes, actually.”  Fergus stepped into the room to stand at the foot of the bed, tracing the wooden footboard with the fingertips of one hand.  His other arm hung unusually limply at his side. Had he been hurt? “If I knew you were coming, I would have greeted you at the gate, and you wouldn’t have had to face the castle alone... or hide in here to find some little shred of Nathaniel to comfort you.” 

“That’s not - “

“I may not be as smart as you, but I’m not an idiot.” Fergus moved over to where she sat on the bed and rested his big, heavy hand on her head, shaking it slightly and causing her head to move around.  

Liss grumbled and slapped his hand away. “I came with a friend, a last minute kind of thing, or I would have written ahead.  Believe me when I say I would have much preferred by glorious return home to not have ended with me a pitiful weeping mess, but I just don’t think there’s a way around it.”

“There wasn’t for me,” he said with a sigh, staring blankly off into the air, “That’s what it takes to get past it, I think.” 

“It’s good to see you, Fergus,” Liss muttered weakly, not really wanting to spend the entire visit with her brother stuck in the past. “How are you?”

He laughed and shook his head, looking back at her.  “As well as I can be, considering. And you?” He winced and grasped the limp arm. 

“I’ve been better,” Liss replied absently, setting the book aside and sliding to her feet.  She grabbed his arm and examined it through the sleeve. A bulky spot rose up under the material just by his shoulder, a bandage.  “What happened to your arm?”

“You won’t believe it,” he said, raising his eyebrows.

“So it’s a good story, then?”

“Depends.” His grin was so wide she could count his teeth, not that she wanted to. 

“Well, go on.  Out with it,” she said dryly, sitting down on the edge of the bed “Lest I die from suspense.” 

“Well, I was in the Coastlands, on my way to see what was going on in Amaranthine.  I’d heard nothing from the Arlessa, Warden-Commander -- whatever she is-- for weeks, and that pillar of smoke was concerning.”  Fergus paced about in front of the bed, gesturing emphatically. “On my way, I was cornered by some bandits, well… they weren’t actually bandits.  They were some men who’d escaped the fire and darkspawn in the city, who were just desperate for money. 

“Anyway, one of them managed to slash my arm and knock me from my horse.  I fell to the ground and hit my head. I was dizzy, and my ears were ringing.  I thought I was done for.”

Fergus paused and looked to Liss expectantly, and she obliged him with a response.  “Don’t you know how to defend yourself? Mother would be so very disappointed.” 

Fergus rolled his eyes, but continued with the same level of enthusiasm.  “It didn’t take long for me to notice the men had stopped their attack, and the one who landed the blow to my arm was on the ground clutching a wounded leg.  The others were yelling at this Grey Warden, blaming him for the loss of their families and livelihoods.”

Liss leaned forward, chin in her hands.  “A Grey Warden?”

He nodded. “A Grey Warden.  One of the men tossed a dagger at him, but then another Grey Warden showed up, this mage who made roots come up from the ground to shield her comrade.”

“You’re lying.” 

“No, I’m serious.”  He shook his head and she believed him.  “The men called her some unkind names and she was going to attack them, but the other Warden stopped her and began to talk to the men, sympathize with them.  He said he understood and vowed to make it up to them if they’d give him the chance.” 

“Mighty noble of someone they just tried to murder,” she said tapping her chin. 

“Well,” Fergus said, dropping his gaze to the ground as he kicked at the floor with the toe of his boot, “You know how Nate is.” 

Liss’ breath caught in her throat, a noticeable, horribly embarrassing gasp escaping her. She would have sworn her heart stopped for a moment. “Nate?”

“Yes!” 

“A Grey Warden?”

“Mhmm.”  Fergus nodded and continued on to explain how Nathaniel had landed among the Wardens’ ranks, how he’d returned believing his father had been murdered and his family disgraced for no reason.  How he believed he needed to avenge them, but decided to just gather some of his family’s belongings instead, and how he’d been captured and branded a thief for doing so. He would have died had it not been for the Warden-Commander.  

“That’s good,” Liss said half-heartedly, “I’m glad he’s not dead.”

Fergus stared at her skeptically for a moment before speaking.  “That’s it? I can’t say you’re as excited as I thought you’d be.  Still pissed he never wrote?”

“I’ll always be pissed about that.  How hard is it to write one damn letter?”

“Pretty hard, depending on who you ask.”  Fergus tried and failed to lighten the mood. 

“I miss him,” she said, her voice cracking, “And I want him to miss me too.” 

Fergus pulled her into an embrace and squeezed tightly, sighing into her hair.  “I think you should tell him that.” 

“Why,” she asked sharply, voice muffled by Fergus’ shirt, “So he can ignore me for another nine  years?”

“No, you idiot,” Fergus said with a frustrated laugh, “So maybe you can be happy again.” 

“I don’t know if that’s possible, Fergus,” she rasped, tears falling freely and dampening his shirt, “I forgot how.” 

“Me too, Sis.” He kissed her hair.  “But we have to try.” 


	20. More Than Anyone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It would be better if everyone could live in a world where they could be with whoever they wanted.

**_Highever, 9:21 Dragon_ **

Liss had been in trouble plenty of times, but she had never been in “sit in Papa’s chair in his office while he and Mama pace about angrily” trouble.  She actually wasn’t certain who to be more afraid of at the moment: Her mother, who ranted and scolded and lectured and scolded some more, or her father who tapped his chin quietly as he read over a small scroll of parchment in his hand.  She decided they were equally bad, and she wanted to toss herself into the nearest waste bin, melt into the floor —something, anything to escape her parents disappointment and scrutiny.  

It didn’t help that she wasn’t even sure what she had done yet. She’d been telling Nate, well actually expounding in great detail to Nate, about Orzammar and Dwarven Culture. Specifically, she’d been discussing brontos, how they were rare in Northern Ferelden, and what she would sell to see one.  Namely, her left arm. He had gently encouraged her not to do that and then her parents walked in, pale and scowling. Whatever it was, she was done for. 

Papa stopped reading and pacing and sat the parchment down on the desk in front of Liss, sliding it to her.  She blinked up at him to make sure he meant for her to read it and he nodded. His eyes were still gentle, but she could tell he was trying hard to hide it.  It was good that he wasn’t too stern because Mama was mean enough for the both of them when she wanted to be. 

Looking down at the note, Liss saw lines of neatly written letters, nothing elaborate as a scribe would produce, however.   Her stomach sank as she began to read aloud. 

 

> To My Lord and Lady Cousland, 
> 
> It is with much sorrow that I ask to be released from my duties here at your castle, so that my daughter and I may move and begin our lives elsewhere.  I am concerned with the relationship between my Rila, and Lady Elissa, and what it might mean for both of them. I harbor no hard feelings toward your family, but I have lived long enough to know what happens when elven servants become involved romantically with nobility.  I would hate for either of our daughters to be a part of such a scandal. They care for one another deeply, I can tell, but it is hard for them to understand how serious it is. I think it is best if I remove Rila from the situation altogether. 
> 
> I am grateful for your family’s kindness in many ways.  
> 
> Sincerely, 
> 
> Deveni

She looked up from the note, tears hot in her eyes and rolling down her face as she looked at her father.  Even less stern than before, he still shook his head to indicate his disapproval. Her mother grew quiet, eyes filled with concern even through her obvious anger.  

“We told you to leave that girl alone,” she said coldly, words clipped at the end, “We made it very, _very_ clear that you were not to even be friends with her, let alone more than that.” 

“Why,” Liss cried, more tears falling, “Why can’t we be together?  It’s not fair.” 

“Elissa,” Papa sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, “Pup, I wish that we lived in a world where you could be with whoever you wanted.  I wish I could give that to you, but I can’t. Unfortunately, there are those among the noble houses of Ferelden who would view your relationship with Rila as political leverage against our family.  They’d use it to hurt us and you. Rila, too.” 

“But-”

“Sweetheart,’ Mama said, softening finally, “Can you not see that we are protecting you, just as Rila’s mother is protecting her?  You are lucky Deveni is a kind person. No telling who she could have sold this information to otherwise.” 

Papa furrowed his brows, thinking, and looked at Liss.  “How many people know about you and Rila, that you know of?” 

“Just Nathaniel,” Liss replied with a sniffle, “I didn’t even tell Fergus.”

He shrugged.  “Wise choice. That boy couldn’t keep a secret if his life depended on it.” 

Liss disagreed.  Fergus was very good at keeping secrets -- the best-- but she didn’t feel like suffering his teasing, or putting him in an awkward position with their parents. Besides, he had enough on is plate, spending every waking minute with lovely Oriana.  Liss couldn’t blame him. She was perfect, after all. 

“Do you trust Nathaniel?” Her mother’s question was sincere and curious, though Liss was taken aback.  Of course she did!

“More than anyone,” Liss answered with a nod, and her parents both raised their eyebrows and looked at one another. 

“Even us,” Papa asked.

Guilt washed over her, but she told the truth anyway.  “Yes.” 

“Well,” he replied with a chuckle, “Better hold on to him.  People like that are hard to find.” 

Mama nodded along in agreement, and they all sat in a tense silence for a few moments before Liss gathered the courage to speak again. 

“Could I, um,” she began, heart climbing up her throat, “Could I at least say goodbye to Rila?”

Again, her parents looked at one another and then back to her with sympathetic expressions.  

“Pup, Rila and her mother left this morning,” Papa explained, placing his hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry.” 

Liss choked back the sob that followed and took a deep breath, eyes focused on the grain of the wood of her father’s desk.  “Are we done talking?”

“Yes,” Mama said gently, “You can go, if you want to.” 

That was all the permission she needed to jump up from the chair, and dart out of the room leaving her parents with their tired and worried expressions behind.  Her heart was broken, shattered at the notion that her parents waited until Rila was gone to tell her any of this. That she couldn’t even say goodbye to the girl she loved.  What if she blamed Liss? It was her fault, after all. Rila had always been worried that it was a bad idea, and Liss just ignored her concerns. Liss probably deserved all the heartache, considering.  

When she looked up, the door to Nate’s room stood before her.  She hated that she always wound up there when she was sad. Nate made her feel better, but what if it was the same with Rila, and he just felt like he had to comfort her?  She didn’t exactly give him a choice, spilling her guts over and over without even asking if he cared to hear it. What if he actually resented her for it? She stared at his door a few moments longer and spun on her heels to walk away.  It would be selfish of her to bother him with something like this again. 

Liss had only taken a couple of steps when the sound of a door creaking open echoed through the hallway.  “Liss? You okay?”

She turned back to look at him immediately, and judging by the look on his face, she didn’t have to answer. “I’m sorry, I just… I’m…”

“Want to talk about it?”  He motioned with his head for her to come in, and she nodded, walking slowly, ashamedly past Nate and into his room.

Liss sat down unceremoniously on the floor by his bed, wrapping her arms around her legs and pressing her forehead to her knees.  She trembled as she fought the urge to release the sob she’d been holding since she’d run from Papa’s office. It wasn’t long before there was a warmth at her side and arms pulling her over into an embrace, Nate’s arms, hugging her _first_.   His chin was on her head, and were she not so overwhelmingly sad, she might be flustered.  

“Sorry to bother you,” she mumbled against his chest. 

“You’re not,” he reassured her, “The only time you’ve ever bothered me is when you woke me up in the middle of the night to tell me about Warden Garahel and the Fourth Blight.” 

“Yeah, that could have waited until the morning.” 

“You think?”  He laughed, and it vibrated against her cheek.  There was a pause and he continued, “What’s wrong, Liss?”

“My parents found out about Rila,” she explained,”Which wouldn’t have been that bad, but the reason they found out was because her mother wrote them a letter to request permission to leave her job here and find work somewhere else.  She and Rila left this morning. I didn’t even get to tell her goodbye.”

Her lip quivered despite her efforts to keep it steady, and she became more and more upset with each word.  She grasped at the fabric of Nate’s shirt, and he held her more tightly as she released that stubborn sob. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, nearly whispering, “I know you love her.” 

“I’m not sure.  I mean, I feel like I love her, but… you don’t put someone you love in a situation like I did with Rila, do you?” Her tears began to fall more slowly, though her chest still ached. “No matter how much your heart wants you to.”

“It’s hard not to listen to your heart.”

“Why can’t we live in a world where it doesn’t matter?” She leaned back and looked up at Nate who stared off into the distance until he noticed her eyes on him and brought his to meet them. “We could love who we wanted.”

“It’d be nice, wouldn’t it?

“What about you,” she asked, pulling out of the embrace and leaning back against the side of the bed, “Have you ever loved someone you couldn’t be with?”

There was a pause, but he answered.  “I have.”

Liss snapped her head in his direction.  She had never imagined Nate loving anyone, or being with anyone in any romantic capacity.  He’d never really talked about it like Fergus did. He seemed completely uninterested. It hurt, how much she did not know about this side of him, but it was her fault that she never thought to ask. 

“Really?” She raised an eyebrow. 

“Is it that hard to believe?”  

“No, it’s just… I thought you’d tell me something like that, is all.” She couldn't really disguise the hurt that lingered at the end of that statement. She couldn’t tell if she was more hurt over the fact that he kept the secret, or that it existed in the first place.  She hated the jealousy that gnawed at her. She had no right. 

“It’s hard to talk about,” he explained, dropping his head, “Sometimes I think about what might happen if I told her how I felt, but…it’s a bad idea.  Father has forbidden it, and I don’t know if she even feels the same way about me.”

New tears formed in Liss’ eyes, and they weren’t for Rila this time.  She reached over to take Nate’s hand, lacing her fingers through his. . 

“Sorry,” he said and shook his head, squeezing her hand more tightly, “I didn’t mean to make this about me.”

“You didn’t.  I’m the one who asked.” She shrugged. “Besides, things are about me enough.”

“I wish…,” Nate began, but paused as if reconsidering what he was going to say.  He frowned and continued. “I wish that I could tell you about her.”

“You can.” She perked up. 

“I really can’t.” 

“Is she beautiful,” Liss asked and a smile twitched at the corner of Nate’s mouth.  She grinned. “Oh, so she _is_ then?”

“She’s the most beautiful person I’ve ever met, in every way.  Not just on the outside.” He sighed and looked at her, pale eyes sparkling intently.  “She doesn’t even realize it, though. It’s frustrating how average she thinks she is.”

For a brief moment, Liss  could have sworn he was talking about her, the way their eyes met, but that was stupid.  Nate wouldn’t think about her that way. She wasn’t beautiful enough. 

“Wow, she’s lucky,”  Liss blurted, and immediately regretted it, “...to have someone feel that way about her, that is.”

“You think so?” Nate laughed, clearly amused. 

“If someone said that about me, I’d probably cry.”

“You cry over a lot of things,” Nate teased. 

“Yes,” she remarked tersely, frowning, “And I’d cry over that, too.”

Liss almost forgot that she was holding Nate’s hand, until she noticed his thumb grazing hers softly, back and forth.  She watched for a moment, an overwhelming rush of feelings flooding through her. It was as natural and easy to hold his hand as it was to interlock her own fingers.  She’d never thought much about it; it was just something they did, something they had always done. Now, it meant so much. She tried to imagine a world where she couldn’t hold his hand, and every option made her sad.  Sadder than when she found out Rila was gone, sadder than anything.

Maybe she loved Rila, maybe not, but she knew without a shadow of a doubt, that she could never love another person like she loved Nathaniel.  She just wished so desperately that he loved her, too, that she was the person he’d been speaking of. She hated the idea that someone could swoop in and take him away from her. 

“Liss?” Nate waved a hand in front of her face, and leaned in more closely, squinting.  She’d been so lost in her thoughts and she hadn’t even realized. 

“Hmm?” She blinked and shook her head, heat rising to her cheeks with the nearness of him. 

“You’re about to cry again,” he stated as if it were an indisputable fact.

“No, I’m not,” she protested as tears fell from her eyes. 

Nate grabbed her shoulders firmly.  “What is it?”

“It’s dumb.”

Probably,” he said, dryly, “But it’s making you upset.” 

Liss took a deep breath and braced herself for the confession she knew she shouldn’t make. “It’s so much easier to think about the fact that Rila is gone now than it is to think about you having to leave in the future.” 

Nate blinked at her beneath furrowed brows, but said nothing, so she continued. 

“I don’t know what I’d do without you, Nate,” she explained, throat aching with the emotion she kept trying to hold back. 

He laughed, and she wasn’t sure what to make of it.  “I’m not going anywhere.”

“What if you do?” She pouted.  She must seem like such a child. 

“You’d manage.”

“How can you be so sure?” 

“Because you are smart, and strong, and kind, and everyone who meets you loves you.” He brought a hand up to wipe a tear from her cheek and let it linger there for a moment. “How could they not?”

“But everyone leaves,” she remarked, more tears replacing those that had fallen before. “Just like Rila.” 

“I’m not everyone,” he said, almost sounding annoyed, as he brushed away her tears again.  “I’m also not Rila.” 

Nate pressed his lips to her forehead briefly and then pulled away, eyes meeting hers, faces hovering close enough together that his breath warmed her face, colliding with hers.  Had she not not known any better, she would have thought he wanted to kiss her, and she wouldn’t dare stop him. In fact, she wanted him to do it, welcomed it. She wondered if his lips would be soft, what he’d taste like, and if he’d run his fingers through her hair.  Surely, he’d be good at it. He was good at everything else, so it only made sense. 

But he didn’t kiss her.  Of course, he didn’t. It was Nate for Andraste’s sake! He was too thoughtful and reasonable to ever consider doing something so impulsive as kissing someone who clearly wanted to be kissed, who closed her eyes and waited until she realized he had turned away.  

“You don’t have to worry about losing me,” he said,  picking at a loose thread on his breeches and then looking up at her. “You’re my best friend, and I won’t let that happen.”

“Swear?” She glared at him through squinted eyes.  It was as playful a gesture as she could manage in her disappointment. 

“On my life.” He smirked and looked back at her. 

Leaning over against him, she looped her left arm through his right, head dropping to his shoulder.  He tilted his head so that it was against hers. It wasn’t a kiss, but she’d take it. 

 “Fine,” she relented, and told him what she had known all along.  “I trust you.”


	21. Denerim

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Did someone say Denerim?

_**Denerim, 9:31 Dragon** _  


It was a day’s journey from Vigil’s Keep to Denerim, far too brief of a journey for Nathaniel to properly untangle his thoughts and consider what he might actually say when he found Liss.  That is, if she would hear it. For all the wonderful memories he had of her, the one that planted itself at the forefront of his mind, permanent and painful, was the moment he’d said goodbye.  How her tears had dampened his shirt, stubborn arms clinging to him even as he tore himself away. She asked him to write, but he hadn’t. A stupid, selfish choice that he justified because it was the only way he knew how to cope with the emotional equivalent of losing a limb. 

“There it is,” Lucia spoke up from beside him following a pensive and shaky sigh and he followed the line of her arm to see the walls of the capital sprawling before them.  

Nathaniel nodded, but said nothing.  It comforted him, at least, that she looked as apprehensive as he felt.  Despite hours on the road together, talking about a great number of things, Lucia had not said a word about what she sought in Denerim. If their conversation on the battlements had been any indication, her circumstances were vaguely similar to his own.

“The last time I traveled to Denerim, it was on fire and under siege by the darkspawn.” She stiffened, fists clenched at her sides. “The archdemon awaited me a the top of Fort Drakon.”

“Let me guess.  You expected this time to be easier, but it’s not.”

“I would prefer to face the dragon again, I think.” Lucia gave a sad half-smile, and shook her head. “As ridiculous as that sounds.”

“Facing a dragon is simple, predictable, with a very clear goal,”  Nathaniel replied and Lucia eyed him curiously. He continued with a smirk despite her furrowed brows. “It’s much more complicated to face yourself and the consequences of your decisions.”

“It would seem your personal business in the city is such that you would prefer to face a dragon as well,” she stated, astute as ever.  He’d expected her to forget that he had his own reasons for the trip. He almost wished she would have. 

“I would rather face a legion of dragons,” he admitted with a sigh, and dropped his head.  Lucia tapped him briefly on the arm, and he looked up just in time to see her smile and walk past him. 

“We’ve prolonged the inevitable long enough,” she said decisively, glancing back at him over her shoulder, “With luck, dragons will swoop down and end our misery.”

Nathaniel snorted gracelessly, following behind her.  “I hope you’re joking.” 

It was well into the evening when they arrived in the city, vibrant rays of sunset hovering above, and yet Denerim still teemed with life, children running about outside in fur cloaks, breath visible in the air as their parents told them to come inside.  The merchants in the square called for their final sales of the evening and began to put away their wares as guards walked about changing shifts and relieving their comrades. The energetic buzz fell silent as Lucia and Nathaniel passed by, children and parents, merchants and guards alike standing as statues with their mouths agape.  Cries of “That’s her!” and “The Hero of Ferelden is back!” rang out clearly from the silent crowds, and Lucia just nodded politely before tugging at the hood of her cloak and pulling it up to cover her face. 

 Anonymity would not be an option for them, it seemed, and Nathaniel began to scan the alleys and tops of buildings for would-be assassins and vigilantes.  There were sure to be those who still wished Lucia harm. Nothing suspicious caught his eye, but he remained wary until they reached the palace, but said nothing of his concern for her.  She had enough on her mind already. The Queen herself had received news of their arrival, and she waited in the throne room to greet them. He was impressed and appalled by the speed with which word traveled through the capital.

A set of heavy wooden doors opened into the throne room where Anora sat, posture erect and proper, at the far end of the room.  She stood when she noticed Nathaniel and Lucia and began to approach them, leaving her guards behind to grumble about her safety.  She looked just as she had when they were children, pretty as a flower, but far less delicate. He had never questioned why Liss admired her as she did. 

“Warden-Commander,” she exclaimed, “This is a pleasant, if not unexpected surprise.”  She paused, her eyes darting toward Nathaniel, an amused expression spreading across her face. 

“It has been some time, Your Majesty,” he said fondly.

“Indeed it has.”  Anora nodded and looked down, eyes scanning his armor.  “You are a Grey Warden now?”

“Apparently,” he answered with a shrug, glancing over at Lucia, “The commander saved me from the gallows.  I owe her my life.” 

“Don’t we all?” She offered him a sorrowful, understanding smile.  Her father was a traitor, too, and she undoubtedly knew all too well what he meant.  Anora turned her attention back to Lucia, face hardening. “I presume you did not travel to the capital to exchange pleasantries.” 

“No, Your Majesty.” Lucia looked down at the grey stone floor beneath her, as if it were the most fascinating thing in the world.  Never before had she seemed so young and inexperienced than she did now standing before the Queen of Ferelden. “I am here to see Alistair.”

Anora frowned, eyes filled with sympathy that crackled in her voice when she spoke. “Alistair is… not in Denerim at the moment.”

“Oh,” Lucia remarked softly, seeming to crumple under the weight of disappointment.  Nathaniel didn’t know who Alistair was, but he was clearly important to her, she had built herself up for this moment, and he wasn’t there.  He felt for her. 

“He and Lady Cousland –” Anora glanced at Nathaniel, with a subtle yet knowing expression– “left for Highever yesterday morning.  It was not to be a long trip, but I am not certain when he will return. Of course, you both are welcome to stay in the palace in the meantime.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” Nathaniel said, bowing his head briefly, a display of reverence he hoped was suitable to her. 

She nodded in response and quickly ordered for servants to show the two of them to their rooms before excusing herself for the evening.  Lucia sighed, staring off at the far wall morosely, as they waited.  

“Are you all right?” He placed a hand on her shoulder, and she jumped slightly before looking at him.    

“No,” she answered, voice hoarse and cracking as tears fell from her eyes.  “I’m not.” 

Nathaniel had never seen the woman cry before, and he was at a loss for how to console her.  He settled upon giving her a few gentle pats on the shoulder, letting his hand rest there for a moment.  Just as he released her shoulder, Lucia turned suddenly and embraced him tightly, both arms around his waist as she sobbed into his chest.  He tensed, shocked by the abrupt and unexpected contact, but eased and returned the hug. He did not need to know her situation to understand how she felt.  Liss wasn’t present either, and it was all he could do to hold it together. 

By the time Nathaniel saw Lucia again, the next afternoon at an impromptu meeting called by Queen Anora to discuss the situation in Amaranthine, she had completely composed herself and it was as if she were unaffected at all.  He didn’t know how she managed. She apologized for her “embarrassing” behavior the night before, and requested that they keep her breakdown between the two of them. He gave her his word, but assured her that she did nothing wrong all the same. 

The meeting with the queen lasted just long enough for them to recount the tale of the sentient darkspawn in Amaranthine and explain the decision to torch the city.  She agreed that it was a prudent decision, but was uncertain that she could convince the Landsmeet to believe the same. It was not ideal, but it was better than the Wardens having the ire of the crown.  When the meeting adjourned, Nathaniel and Lucia both stood and turned to leave. 

“Nathaniel,” Anora called out, and he stopped, just as he reached out to pull open the door.

“Yes, Your Majesty?”

“I’d like to speak with you alone for a moment, if you don’t mind.” 

Nathaniel looked at Lucia who shrugged, nodded, and exited the room, letting the door close behind her.  He walked back toward the center of the room and sat down in a chair directly across from Anora. She pulled open one of the drawers to her desk, took something out of it, and rose to her feet.  

“I have some information about your brother,” she stated, her words hesitant. 

“I know,” Nathaniel said, dropping his head, “Thomas died at Ostagar.”

Anora’s brows pressed together in a stern expression and she walked around her desk with what appeared to be a sealed envelope in hand.  She extended it to Nathaniel. “This is for you.” 

Nathaniel blinked, confused, but took the envelope from her hands.  It was unaddressed and the seal bore no crest or other insignia. “Whatㄧ”

“You should read it,” Anora urged, and stepped back around to sit behind her desk. 

Nathaniel broke open the seal and pulled out what appeared to be a letter addressed to him.

> Dear Nate,   
>    
>  Surprise!  I’m not dead.  I know, I know.  You aren’t amused, but stop scowling; it’s rude (That’s what Delilah says, isn’t it?).  I apologize that things had to be this way, but when I managed to survive Ostagar and when I heard what Father had done,  I didn’t want to go back. His was not a legacy I ever wanted, no matter how much he pushed it on me, and I especially want no part  in it now. I fled the country and asked Queen Anora for help. She signed off on my death record, so now I’m free.
> 
> I am living in Antiva right now, working for some merchant’s guild. As it turns out, I am actually quite good at selling things.  Perhaps I’ll make a career of it. Who knows! I’m much more well-suited to it than I ever was to fighting or running an arling. I’d much rather be “common rabble,” as Father would have called it, than to be forced into an oppressive marriage and pretend to be someone who I’m not for the rest of my life. 
> 
> I’ve stopped drinking.  I thought you would be proud of me for that. 
> 
> I always said that it was just something I did for fun, but Delilah was right.  It was how I coped with all of the shit father put us through. I’m not as strong as you or resilient as Delilah, and it was all I knew how to do. 
> 
> I am happy here, truly.  I’ve met people who I trust, and made a few close friends.  One of them actually moved to Denerim a few months ago, when the Blight ended.  She’s a former assassin fleeing the Crows with the help of some Zevran person. She helped me get my letters to the queen.  Bria is her name. I think she’s working as a blacksmith, or something. She did not say exactly when she left. Should you ever need to contact me, you will need to see her. 
> 
> Nate, I know it will be hard, but please don’t tell Delilah about this.  She will just insist on finding me, and it’s not safe. I might be found out.  It might implicate the queen. It’s messy, and I know you’ll feel guilty, but I trust you.  You’re the only person I’ve ever really trusted. 
> 
> I love you brother, and I miss you.  I hope that you are well. 
> 
> Sincerely,   
>  Thomas
> 
> P.S.  Please destroy this letter after you read it.  I wouldn’t want it falling into the wrong hands. 

Nathaniel laughed in disbelief as he finished the letter.  Tom had survived after all, and was now free to live the life he always wanted.  It’d be a hard secret to keep, but one that he was grateful for knowing. His family wasn’t quite as broken as he thought.  Holding the letter, he stood and walked to the fireplace that burned on the far side of the room. He dropped the parchment into the flames and watch as it dissolved into ash before turning to face Anora once again. 

“I don’t know how to thank you,” he said, voice hoarse with emotion, “I’m certain that whatever I could come up with wouldn’t be good enough.” 

“That won’t be necessary.”  She stood and crossed the room to stand in front of him, staring into the flames for several moments.  “When I first took the throne, just months ago, I believed that it was my duty to atone for my father’s crimes.  I thought that I would forever bear the weight of his decisions, suffer in his stead. I have made so many apologies I could not count them.

“Then, when I offered my reparations to the Couslands, to Elissa and Fergus,  for what was done to them with my father’s approval, they told me I owed them nothing, and that we should learn from the sins of our fathers rather than suffer from them.”

“The Couslands are good people, Your Majesty.”  Nathaniel nodded. 

“Indeed.” She grinned widely. “I just thought that I should share that with you.  I am uncertain how you are handling the news of what your father did, but I think your family doesn’t need to be forever tainted by his actions.  Thomas deserves his happiness, as does Delilah, and yourself.”

“Thank you, again, Your Majesty,” he said, bowing more formally this time, “For everything.” 

Nathaniel left the queen’s office, head buzzing with everything that had transpired in such a short span of time, and uncertain how to process it all.  He was still filled with overwhelming dread at the thought of facing Liss, but it was muted by the excitement about his brother, and his gratefulness to Anora.  He decided that he would see how his companion was faring, and then make a trip to the market, if for no other reason than to distract himself. 

When he reached the door to the guest room designated for Lucia, he lightly rapped his knuckles against the wood.  He heard shuffling noises from the other side, followed by an, “Is that Nathaniel?”

“Yes.” 

“You can just come in.” 

Nathaniel did as she said, pushed down on the knob, and entered the room.  At first glance, he could not see Lucia, then he noticed her sitting on the floor by the bed, cross-legged with a quill and small journal in hand.  She dipped the quill in an inkwell at her side and brought it up to drag it across the paper in hurried, yet smooth lines.

“I haven’t quite mastered drawing with ink,” she remarked as she squinted and furrowed her brows, examining her work thus far, “But there wasn’t any charcoal available, so I made do.” 

“I didn’t know you could draw,” he observed, as he walked over to stand beside her, peering down at her work.  “That looks like King Maric, when he was younger.” 

Lucia laughed and looked up at him.  “Well it’s good to know I captured the family resemblance.” 

“It’s Cailan, then?” 

“Alistair.” 

“Alistair,” Nathaniel repeated, “You said that name yesterday.  Is he the bastard who Arl Eamon tried to put on the throne?”

She nodded. “Yes, and if you mention it to him, he won’t shut up about it.  He was upset by the whole affair.” 

“You seem fond of him, but I don’t think I’ve heard you mention him before.” 

“I haven’t.” Lucia inhaled a shaky breath. “Yesterday was the first time I had said his name out loud since I left for Amaranthine.   I thought that if I ignored the pain, it would just go away. As it turns out, I just habituated to hurting.” 

Nathaniel understood more than he was willing to admit. Wasn’t that what he’d been doing for the past nine years? Pretending his feelings didn’t exist?  

“I should have written to him, but I didn’t,” she added, closing the journal, and setting it to her side with the quill and inkwell.  “I’m not even sure why.”

“Willful illiteracy,” Nathaniel remarked dryly.  That had been his own experience. 

“That’s it!” Lucia laughed and rose to her feet, picking up her art supplies and setting them on the desk before turning back to face Nathaniel.  “How was the meeting with Anora?”   
  
“Good.  We just talked about our families.”

“I suppose you two have much in common now.  In an unfortunate way.” 

“We do.”

There was a brief pause, and then Lucia shook her head and brought her eyes up to meet Nathaniel’s.  “I’m sure you came here for a reason. What did you need?” 

“I’m heading to the Market District, a distraction.  I thought I’d see if you wanted to come.”

“I’d like that.” 

Late afternoon in the Market District was even busier than it had been in the early evening.  People milled about, some busying themselves with the kiosks in the center of the square, others wandering from shop to shop, browsing wares.  A dwarven merchant shouted something about “Dwarven Crafts” so many times that Nathaniel could reasonably predict when he would say it again. Patrons stood outside the tavern, chatting with one another.  It seemed that the people of Denerim had gotten over their initial shock of seeing the Hero of Ferelden, as a few watched her with admiration, but did not interfere or impose in any other way. Most people just carried on as usual. 

They visited several shops, passing by the smithy several times.  Had Lucia not been along, he might have introduced himself to the woman his brother mentioned in the letter.  Perhaps another time. Lucia ended up purchasing several things, including a fewl large, empty flasks she intended to use to experiment with a new potion, as well as some charcoal.  She must have decided against practicing with ink.  

As late afternoon turned to evening they made their way back to the palace, Lucia insisting on carrying her own things despite Nathaniel’s offer to help her.  He assured her that he knew she could carry the things on her own, but that she did not have to. She refused nonetheless. They reached the main door to the palace that opened into the sprawling vestibule. Nathaniel grabbed the handle to the door, pulling it open for Lucia.  As he held the door, he heard a loud clatter and rushed inside. 

“Is everything all r-”   


Lucia stood just in front of the door, surrounded by shards of shattered glass from having dropped the bags to the floor.  He nearly grumbled at her about refusing his help, but he noticed that her eyes were locked on something at the far end of the room.  He snapped his head in that direction to see what had so captivated her. 

It was a lovely young couple that stood across from them, arms wrapped around one another affectionately, and the kiss they shared was rather chaste and brief, like a kiss to say goodnight, or goodbye.  The man, he thought, looked rather melancholy, a frown on his face as he pulled away and rubbed the back of his neck. The woman, well, she was Liss, and needless to say, Nathaniel understood why Lucia had dropped her things. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cliffhanger! I know! Liss kissing the wrong person again, I know! All will be explained very very soon. Stay tuned.


	22. Antivan Rum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summer festivals should be happy occasions, but they never fail to ruin Nathaniel's day, or life... It really just depends on the year.

_**Highever, 9:22 Dragon** _   


Nathaniel had always hated summer festivals.  They were week long events that punctuated the end of the season, filled with eating, drinking, dancing, and general merrymaking, while he watched from the corner or listened from his room.  It wasn’t that he hated the revelry. No, he enjoyed eating and drinking and dancing just as much as the next person, but for as long as he could remember, he had never been allowed to enjoy any of those things.  Father always had a way of making him miserable, watching him with a scornful eye, scolding him for behaving as others his age. He was seventeen, damn it, and the man should not still bother him so much, but he did.  Father ruined everything. 

The disdain toward festivals had increased since he began spending summers at Highever.  Every time a party was held during the summer, it robbed him of his respite with the Couslands, something he cherished more and more every year.  He wanted nothing more than to dance with Liss, to see her face glowing, illuminated by lantern light, as she smiled up at him with those big brown eyes of hers.  There was nothing he wouldn’t give. Yet, he couldn’t. Father would see it, and quickly strip him of his privilege to visit Highever at all.

The threat was even more dire this year, as the celebrations were in honor of Fergus’ engagement.  He had proposed to Oriana in the spring, she accepted, and Father took it as a personal slight. He believed Bryce’s “frivolous idealism” would be the downfall of his house.  To him, marriage was no more than a political tool, something Nathaniel had heard a thousand times, a way to get power and money. Bryce’s decision to allow his children to marry who they loved rather than who would gain the family more power, meant that Delilah would never be the Teyrna of Highever. So, the only remaining option was Liss, and she was meant for Thomas.  If Father saw her with Nathaniel, it would be over. 

So, Nathaniel did the exact opposite of what he wanted and avoided Liss as if she weren’t the only person in the world he wanted to see.  It hurt her, he knew, no matter how much she said she understood, and he hated that most of all.

It was the last day of the festival, and Nathaniel would be leaving with his family for Amaranthine the next day.  Yet he sat alone in his room reading and trying not to think. He wrote little notes in the margins of books he thought Liss might pick up.  Ever since he learned she snuck into his room when he wasn’t there, he had been leaving things for her. If she found them, she hadn’t said anything yet.  

A knock at the door alarmed him, and he slammed the book shut and stood to answer it.  He opened the door, expecting to see Delilah or Thomas, perhaps even Fergus, or Liss if she felt particularly mischievous.  He did not expect to see the dark-haired, grim-faced man that stood before him, eyebrows raised and arms crossed. 

“Father,” Nathaniel said, swallowing hard and taking a step back into the room. “Is something wrong?”  

There had to be something wrong for the man to seek him out.  He never visited Nathaniel for anything good. 

Father entered, looking around with narrowed eyes, tracing a fingertip along the back of Nathaniel’s desk chair before turning it around and sitting down as if it were his own. 

“Your presence has been missed at the celebration,” he stated, coldly. “ Where have you been?”

“I never go,” Nathaniel explained, “I don’t enjoy them.”

“Sometimes we must do things we do not enjoy, son,” he remarked pointedly.

Nathaniel’s blood boiled.  He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d actually enjoyed anything.  Still, he bit his tongue so much he thought it might bleed, sighed, and said, “If you wish me to go, I will.”

“Considering that this will be your last summer in Highever, I think that would be the most gracious choice.” He grinned, but he might as well have kicked Nathaniel in the gut. “The Couslands have been kind to accommodate you for so many years.”

“My last summer?” Nathaniel’s chest tightened like a vice.  

“Yes,” his father answered, “One of your mother’s cousins is a knight in Starkhaven. He has offered to have you as a squire.”

“A squire?” Nathaniel shook his head. “Starkhaven?”

“It is an excellent opportunity, Nathaniel, one you would be a fool to refuse, not that you have any say in the matter.” He stood.  “Thomas will inherit Amaranthine, and you need to make something of yourself.” 

Nathaniel hung his head and mumbled a terse, “Yes, Father,” which seemed to appease the man.  His father gave him an unaffectionate pat on the shoulder, and moved to exit the room. 

“I expect to see you at the festivities shortly,” he said, lingering by the door, “Do not disappoint me.”  He shut the door behind him. 

Nathaniel inhaled deeply, rage and grief twisting together in his chest, and slammed his fist so hard against the door he knew it would bruise.  He did everything right, obeyed his father’s rules to the letter and it didn’t matter. None of it mattered because he was just another pawn in Father’s little game, and now he was furious with himself for being so obedient.  He could have spent the last few days with Liss, with the others, and he’d wasted it trying to make his father happy. No more. He was done. It was his last evening in Highever, and he was going to spend it with the person he loved.  

Then it dawned on him that he’d have to tell her.  He couldn’t just say goodbye the next day as if everything were normal when he knew he wasn’t coming back.  Liss deserved to know, but his stomach twisted at the thought of her reaction. Hadn’t he promised her just a year ago that he wasn’t going to abandon her?  He shook his head. It wasn’t his fault, and he refused to dwell on it any longer. The hours until he had to leave were rushing by too quickly. He needed to get ready. 

He paced about his room, combing his hair and tucking his shirt into his breeches, and making himself look at least presentable.  It was not as if he were attending a royal ball, but he also did not think it would be appropriate to look like the disheveled mess he felt in front of the various noble houses of Ferelden.  Or Liss. 

Once he was reasonably satisfied with his appearance, he left the room, nearly sprinting.  At least it gave his heart a reason to pound.  

By the time he made it to the courtyard, the first rays of sunset poured over the gardens, which were decorated with elaborate canopies and lanterns at every turn.  Noble men and women stood about eating delicate little finger foods that were unlike anything Fereldans would prepare and chattering with one another. Young children weaved to and fro through the crowds, playing games and giggling.  An ensemble played music in the background. Nathaniel observed from a few feet away, taking time to gather himself, catch his breath, and then entered the courtyard. 

The space underneath the canopies was not as occupied as it appeared from the outside, the majority of the people standing along the edges, leaving a large open space in the middle where just a few couples danced.  More would surely join as the evening turned to night, wine and ale taking their effect. He spotted Fergus and Oriana standing at a far corner, Fergus already besotted. Nathaniel wasn’t actually certain if there was any point in the past week where his friend had not been drunk.  Oriana didn’t seem to mind, though, laughing at his antics and patting him on the cheek. 

Thomas was drunk as well, and waving his arms erratically as he spoke to Delilah, who shoved him, and walked away.  She didn’t approve of Tom’s drinking so much, even at parties, concerned that he was too young and that it was a problem.  Nathaniel did not disagree, but his sister made a big enough deal about it for the both of them. He couldn’t fault his brother for trying to cope. 

He noticed several other familiar faces in the crowd: Bryce and Eleanor, Father, King Maric and Prince Cailan.  Even the Brylands were in attendance. It made sense, considering that Leonas –Nathaniel’s uncle, though he could hardly call him such– and Bryce were still close friends.  Little Habren stood by his side, frowning at the other children who played without her. He wished he knew his own family well enough to greet them, but they’d only ever interacted at formal affairs, and he had not seen them at all since mother died. 

Even after searching the entirety of the canopied area, Nathaniel saw no sign of Liss anywhere.  Odd, but not completely outside the realm of possibility for her to be off wandering about, rather than exactly where she was supposed to be.  He stepped back out into the open area of the courtyard and walked around the perimeter of the canopies. When he looked up, he spotted her, sitting on a set of stone steps and picking at the hardy blades of grass that poked through.  He took a deep breath, and approached her. 

“I’m fine, Delilah,” she huffed without looking up, “I’ll come back in a minute.  I promise.” 

A smirk twitched at Nathaniel’s lips.  “Try again.” 

Liss’ head snapped up to look at him, eyes widening as she realized.  “Nate?” A grin spread across her lips, brightening her whole face. “You came!”

“It’s about time, don’t you think?”  She nodded, and he sat down beside her on the steps.  “I was surprised when I didn’t find you with everyone else.

“I just,” she began, frowning and biting her bottom lip, “I heard your father talking to mine about an arranged marriage between me and Thomas... of all people.”

“What’s wrong with Thomas?” 

“Nothing,” she answered with a shrug, “It’s just weird to hear someone talk about me like I’m not even a person.  It’s like I’m just some sort of trophy. I thought he hated me, and that’s why he didn’t like for us to be friends.”

“No,” Nathaniel sighed and shook his head, “He just hates me.” 

“Well, I hate him,” she remarked, tersely, “So there.” 

Liss winked at him and he laughed before they fell into a heavy silence, not uncomfortable, just full of words unsaid.  A soft melody began to play in the background, floating out from beneath the canopy, simple, but beautiful. Nathaniel stood abruptly, Liss’ eyes following him as he did so. 

“Lady Cousland,” he said as formally as he could manage, bowing and extending a hand, “Would you honor me with a dance?” 

She snorted and laughed, rolling her eyes, “ ‘Lady Cousland?’ Dancing?  Nate, this is a mean joke.” 

“All right, less proper then:  Liss, do you want to dance with me, or not?” 

Liss froze, furrowing her brows skeptically, glancing between his extended hand, and his eyes. “You’re...serious?” 

“Yes.” 

There was a long pause in which Nathaniel thought he might die, and then she placed her hand in his, allowing him to help her to her feet. 

“Then, the honor is mine, _Lord Howe_ ,” she teased.

 “Please never call me that again.” Nathaniel snorted, and they walked hand in hand to the middle area under the canopy. 

“You know, it felt wrong the moment I said it,” Liss acknowledged as she turned to face him, placing her free hand on his shoulder, while he placed his on her back.  She smiled up at him, and it was sunlight. Surrounded by people, she was the only person he could see. The only one he cared to. 

As they moved to the music, Nathaniel surprised himself with how quickly he recalled the motions, and how easily they came to him despite never having practiced outside of his lessons with Adria.  She had insisted that he learn, despite his protests, and he could not have been more grateful. Eyes bore into him and Liss as they danced, slow and uncertain at first. Eyes of those who would wonder at the relationship between Bryce Cousland’s daughter and the eldest of the Howe children,  whispers and gossip that his father would be unable to douse. Nathaniel could think of no better rebellion. 

Liss’ hand tightened on his shoulder, clinging to the fabric of his shirt, as she whispered abruptly. “Nate.”

“Hmm?”

“Your father is watching.” Her eyes darted to the back of the room and then back at him. 

“I know,” he said, fighting the smirk that quirked up at the corner of his mouth. 

“But I thought — “ she trailed off, brows furrowing in her confusion.  “Won’t he be angry with you?”

“He will,” Nathaniel admitted with a sigh, “But I don’t care.”

“Aren’t you worried he will keep you from coming back to Highever?”

“Not anymore.” 

“Why? What changed,” she asked, but then as she looked at him, her eyes widened in realization, her perfect features contorting in grief.  “No.”

Nathaniel nodded.  Their movements had slowed so that they were doing little more than swaying in time with the music. 

“No, he can’t,” Liss whimpered softly, releasing his hand and shoulder and throwing her arms around his waist instead, burying her face into the curve of his neck.  The smell of lavender in her hair was distracting. 

“Liss,” he murmured, wrapping his arms around her.  They were no longer dancing at all, just embracing in the middle of the floor. 

She darted her head up quickly, frowning at him.  “Was this a pity dance, then? Butter me up before you break the bad news?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he answered, laughing humorlessly.

“It’s not funny, Nathaniel,” she huffed, pulling away and looking at him with a pout.  

“No, it’s not,” he admitted,” I just can’t believe that you think I would ever do anything for you out of pity.  I admire you. I always have.” 

“Oh.” 

“I asked you to dance because I’ve always wanted to ask you to dance, but never could because of my father.  I asked you to dance because I don’t want to spend my last night here regretting all the things I’ve never done.  I asked you to dance because I’m so sad and angry that I can’t stand it, and you make me feel better. I asked you to dance because I –” _love you_ , he might have said, but was interrupted as a pair of drunken dancers stumbled into them, stationary as they were.  

He apologized to the people, who seemed rather offended that he and Liss had been using the dance floor improperly, and Liss laughed, bringing her hand to her mouth politely to hide it.  She then took his hand and led him away, out of the way of other dancers, through a small cluster of attendees, and out from under the canopied area. They made it up the set of stone steps Liss had been sitting on when he arrived before Nathaniel spoke again. 

“Where are we going?”

She stopped, and turned to face him.  “I just think that maybe we should talk about all of this, and that it might be easier somewhere besides the middle of my brother’s engagement celebration.”

“That is a good idea.” 

“Besides,” Liss said with a shrug, smiling brightly, though tears glistened in her eyes, “I don’t really feel much like celebrating.” 

“Me neither,” Nathaniel sighed, hanging his head, until Liss tugged at his hand again. 

“C’mon.  I have an idea.”  She grinned widely, and pulled him along with her into the castle. 

He followed her through the halls and up flights of stairs until they reached her bedroom.  She released his hand and entered, walking directly to her bed where she knelt on the floor and nearly crawled under it in an attempt to reach something.  Nathaniel entered the room as well, watching her fumble about, and closed the door behind him. She was so deeply concentrated on what she was doing, he could not bring himself to interrupt her to ask. 

With a grunt she pulled her arm back out from under her bed, a large bottle of amber liquid in her hand.  It sloshed around with the motion. She sat on the floor in front of her bed, as she was wont to do, and extended the bottle out to Nathaniel.   He furrowed his brow, but took it and sat down beside her. 

“What is it,” he asked, removing the cork and sniffing the contents. 

“I’m not supposed to have it,” she explained with another mischievous grin, “It’s some sort of Antivan rum.  Oriana’s family sent it as a gift for Fergus, but he said it tastes like ‘piss’ and gave me some to try. I liked it and he let me keep it, so long as I don’t let Mum and Papa see it.”

“I’ve seen Fergus drink dwarven ale without flinching, and _this_ tastes like piss?”

“That’s what I asked. He didn’t have a good answer, but I’m not complaining.” Liss shrugged and tilted her head toward the bottle.  “You should try it…. I mean, if you want to.” 

Nathaniel nodded and pressed the bottle to his lips, taking a small swig of the liquid.  It was sweet, but spicy, burning pleasantly in his mouth and down his throat as he swallowed.  Much better than anything Fergus had ever offered him. Especially better than dwarven ale.

“That’s good,” he told Liss, handing the bottle back to her.  He flinched, blinking a few times as he watched her gulp down a large swig and set the bottle down on the floor in between them. 

“Thank you,” she said emphatically. 

There were a few moments of comfortable silence before Liss spoke up again.  “Do you remember when I hid from Papa under your bed?”

“Yes,” he said, laughing and turning his head toward her, “It’s one of the more lasting first impressions anyone has ever made.”

“I do my best.” Liss took another long drink, and scooted the bottle to Nathaniel who followed suit, and they spent a bit of time reminiscing. 

They spoke of all the times Nathaniel had gone to his room only to find Liss already there, about how she fought her brother about Lady Anora, and the time she tried to tackle him into the pond.  Good memories that he would want to carry with him to Starkhaven, memories of her. It was not long before the bottle of rum was half empty, and Nathaniel’s head swam.  

“You know, coming to Highever was originally meant as some punishment?  When my mother became sick, Father thought that my behavior was unacceptable– I don’t even remember what I did– and he thought that I might learn to act like a man if I spent time with Fergus.”

“Fergus?” Liss blurted.  Her cheeks were flushed. “Seriously?  I mean, I love my brother, but… seriously?”

“What,” Nathaniel asked in feigned confusion, “ He taught me a great many things about manhood?”

“Oh yeah? Like what?”

“Specifically, belching… and being a pain in the arse.” 

Liss giggled in response, nearly uncontrollably, as she held her sides before falling over into his shoulder.  She was definitely drunk. He was definitely drunk, too. She continued to laugh for several minutes, and then she grew quiet, but he noticed her tracing circles on the floor with her fingertip. 

“Where are you going to go,” she asked, suddenly, “If you’re not at Highever, I mean.” 

“Starkhaven,” he sighed, leaning his head so that it lay atop hers, “A relative of mother’s is a knight in service to the Vael family.  I am going to be a squire.” 

“I’m actually kind of jealous.” 

“I thought you might be.”  

There was a long pause, then Liss spoke again her voice hoarse with emotion.  “I don’t want you to go.” She didn’t look up at him, but moved the rum bottle out of the way so that she could scoot closer.  

“If I had a choice, I wouldn’t.  I’d–” he began, but found it hard to speak past the lump in his throat even with the influence of the rum. 

“You’d what?” She finally brought her gaze up to meet his. 

“I’d stay here with you,” he confessed, firmly, “Always.” 

With that, Liss sniffed quietly and then dissolved, wracked with sobs and shaking as she threw her arms around him.  A knife twisted somewhere in his abdomen, and he was at a loss for what to say. There was nothing he could say to console her.  He couldn’t even console himself. So, instead, he returned her embrace, arms tight around her, face pressed into her hair.  

“I’m so sorry,” he managed to choke out, and it was only then that he realized he was crying too, hot tears rolling down his cheeks.  He hadn’t cried since Mother died. Liss had held him then, too. 

Liss pulled away and tilted her head to look up at him.  Noticing his tears, she frowned, brows pressing together, and reached up to gently wipe them from his cheeks with her thumbs, despite the flood that still poured from her own eyes.  She held his gaze, hands lingering on the sides of his face as her lashes fluttered. The air between them was heady and his pulse jumped, heartbeat throbbing in his ears. It would have been so easy to –

She kissed him, soft lips brushing his gently and knocking the wind from his chest.  It was brief, too painfully brief, as she pulled back just far enough to glance up at him, as if to make sure the gesture was welcome.  It was. It was more than welcome. It was everything and the only thing he wanted in that moment. Or ever, really. Though he knew he shouldn’t, knew that it might just make his departure harder for the both of them in the morning, he leaned forward and returned the kiss, pressing his lips to hers and breathing her in.  It was messy and warm and perfect, just as she was, and he never wanted it to end. 

But it had to.  He had to leave, and he didn’t know when he’d see her again, if ever, and it would be cruel to pretend as if the goodbye were only temporary.  He could not promise her that he would be back. He didn’t know what his future held, what her’s held. As much as he wanted to kiss her endlessly, he knew to continue, to take this any further than it already had gone, would only hurt them both.  He tensed up and broke the kiss, pulling away from her and hanging his head. 

“Nate,” Liss asked, voice wavering,” What’s wrong?”

“I can’t,” he answered, shaking his head, and moved out of her embrace, pushing himself to his feet, a difficult feat considering his intoxication.  

“But–” she protested. 

“I really can’t,” he explained, backing away from her and moving toward the door, “I want to– more than anything, believe me– but I can’t.”

Nathaniel’s hand hovered over the door handle as he watched her expression shift from concern to heartache.  When he could take it no more, he pulled the door open and exited the room in one fluid motion, slamming it shut.  He stood with his back flush against the door for a moment, heart pounding and lips still tingling from her touch. The pieces of his shattered heart sank when he heard her on the other side, sobbing and cursing.  

Was that the type of man he was going to be?  The type who walked away callously from the consequences of his own actions?  The kind who turned away from someone in pain simply because her pain deepened his own?  Was he that cowardly, that selfish? He shook his head. No. That was his father, but not him.  He turned the door knob once more and re-entered the room. He would not be his father. 

He rushed over to Liss and sat down beside her once again, gathering her up into his arms.  She was trembling and he hated himself. “I shouldn’t have walked out like that. I just… I’m scared, and hurting and I don’t know what to do.”  

“It’s okay,” she mumbled against his chest, sniffling between words.  “Me neither.” 

Nathaniel sat, Liss curled up in his arms, for a long while, talking and raking his fingers through her hair.  He did not remember when she fell asleep, but noticed that her weight was heavier against him, her breathing slow and even.  He remained with her for awhile, cherishing their last hours together, continuing to hold her close, and stroke her hair. Finally, he moved to stand, lifting her as he did so, and placing her gently on the bed.  He adjusted the pillows under her head, and covered her with a blanket that had been hung over the back of a chair, fearing he would wake her if he attempted to pull the coverlet out from underneath her. Once he was reasonably satisfied that she was comfortable, he placed a brief kiss on her forehead and left the room. 

He had never slept well on the nights before he left Highever, upset by the difficult goodbyes that had to be made.  Tonight, Nathaniel would not sleep at all. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promised another chapter within the week and this is WHY! This is easily my favorite chapter in the whole story, and it was so much fun to write. *Flails*


	23. Errant Lips

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After nine years apart, Liss finally sees Nathaniel again. She only wishes that it were under different circumstances.

_**Fereldan Countryside, 9:31 Dragon** _

“I suppose I owe you an explanation, an apology,” Alistair announced suddenly, breaking the oppressive silence that stretched endlessly between he and Liss ever since they left Highever, “Both, maybe?”

Liss sighed.  Days of navigating treacherous emotional terrain first with the kiss, her traumatic return home, and the resurgence of whatever it was she felt for Nathaniel, left her nearly numb.  It had been nice to see Fergus and to hear his dumb brother advice that wasn’t actually so dumb. Still, nothing would change the fact that Highever felt more like a graveyard than a home.  She was tired, and she didn’t really want to talk about anything, especially not her now complicated relationship with Alistair.

“Not anymore than I owe you,” she replied, fingers tightening around the reins in her hand. 

“Call it even then?” He raised his eyebrows, grinning in what she knew to be feigned hopefulness. 

“I don’t think that’s how this works.”

“I’m not sure how any of this is supposed to work,” he grumbled, “If the past few months haven’t been a testament to that, then nothing is.”

“You’re being too hard on yourself,” Liss  asserted.  

“Am I?” There was a bite, an annoyance in his voice that stung, though it wasn’t directed at her. He was quiet for a moment and then he sighed. “I haven’t exactly been honest with you about my relationship with the Warden-Comm— with Lucia.”

He said her name as if it were a prayer, all previous anger toward her drained from his voice, leaving only a somber reverence.  It was how Oriana’s name sounded when Fergus talked about her now. Liss’ heart ached, guilt throbbing in her chest. How had she not seen it before? How had she not realized?  Alistair wasn’t just heartbroken. He was grieving.

“You love her,” she said, offering him a small smile when he darted his eyes to her. “You didn’t have to tell me that.”

“That obvious, huh?”  He laughed and shook his head, a pained expression crossing his face.  

Liss watched him for a minute before speaking again. “Why did she leave?”

“The Blight took its toll, in more ways than either of us expected.  She dealt with it the only way she knew how… I guess.” He shrugged. “I just wish, well, I don’t know what I wish. I miss her.  I want to see her again and I don’t know how she feels, or if—”

He choked, his voice raw and jaw set. The poor man.  She did not need to imagine how he felt because she knew, something she’d very vocally acknowledged in her outburst on the way to Highever.  She cared for Alistair, and she never meant to cause him more pain.  

“I’m sorry I kissed you,” she stated firmly, eyes trained on the road ahead, too ashamed to see his reaction, “It was selfish and inconsiderate.  I knew better. It’s just that… it felt good to not feel so alone.” 

“Liss, you really don’t have to apologize for that.  I had just as much of a part in what happened as you did, and I could have stopped it at any time.” Alistair let out a heavy sigh and continued.  “It was lovely.  _ You’re  _ lovely, but—”

“But I’m not her.”  Liss turned her head to face him, smirking.  “Nobody will ever be her.” 

“I’m so sorry if I hurt you.”

She shook her head.  “Not hurt. Just embarrassed, but that will go away with time, I think.”

“I hope we can still be friends, in spite of, well… everything.”  He smiled that crooked smile of his and exhaled a shaky breath. 

“If I’m honest, I’d be happy to pretend it never happened,” she said, laughing more nervously than she would have liked.  Alistair just smiled and nodded affirmatively. 

Having shed some of the weight from their shoulders, the remainder of the return trip to Denerim passed by quickly.  Conversation flowed easily between Liss and Alistair once again, filling the air between them with banter and laughter, the things she’d always appreciated the most from him.  It was early evening when they reached the city, tired horses and tireder bodies welcoming the end of the journey that felt much longer than it actually was. They had been away for days, and yet it felt like a lifetime. 

Once the horses were handed off to servants to be stabled, Liss and Alistair made their way inside the palace, and into the vestibule that  led into numerous hallways, including the throne room. As had become their custom in the months that they had both lived in the castle, they stopped in the vestibule to say their good evenings.  The air between them was awkward, stiffer than it had ever been, even when they just met. Alistair scratched the back of his head and Liss turned her gaze to the ground. 

“Well, this is—“ Liss began, but was interrupted as Alistair hugged her abruptly, squeezing almost too tightly.  She wrapped her arms around him in return. 

“Thank you, Liss,” he said softly, “For everything.”

“I haven’t done anything except make a fool of myself,” she laughed and pulled back to look at him. 

“You helped me feel better when I would have been perfectly comfortable pouting and hating myself,” he admitted, “You have been a good friend.”

“So have you.” Liss smiled briefly and moved to place a brief, chaste kiss on his lips.  Alistair’s cheeks flushed a bit, but he smiled warmly nonetheless.

Then, he jumped, body tensing at a loud clatter at the opposite end of the room, the sound of glass shattering.  Before Liss could even look to see what had made the sound, he tore himself away from her abruptly and her heart sank. His eyes were fixed on the far side of the room, wide and watering, fists clenched at his side.  She followed his gaze to a dark-haired woman dressed in armor she knew to belong to the Grey Wardens. Even at a distance, she looked so tired and sad. 

“Luce,” Alistair muttered, breathlessly, but the woman didn’t say anything.  The Commander of the Grey had impeccable timing. 

“Oy,” Liss remarked, “This looks bad.”

It was then that she shifted her gaze from Lucia to the Warden who knelt beside her, deliberately focused on picking up the shards of glass from the floor, as if it were his solemn duty.  He had familiar dark hair that hung around his face, hiding his features. It was probably ridiculous that she recognized him by the top of his head. Were it anyone else she probably couldn’t have. Nathaniel was different.  

She took a few steps forward tilting her head in an effort to get a better look at his face, just to be certain.  

“Nate,” she asked, stomach twisting into knots.  He looked up at her immediately, as if he’d been waiting for her to say something.  Knowing him, he probably had.  

He smiled at her so gently she thought she might break, dropped the glass shards he’d been holding, and stood up.

 “Hi, Liss.”

Stubborn tears welled in her eyes as she fought the overwhelming urge to run to him.  She should be angry with him for never writing and for showing up now, so casual as if there weren’t nine years between them, as if nothing had changed.  Everything had changed. He had never written to her. There were nine years between them now, and yet she still wanted to run to him, to feel his arms around her, comforting her as he always had.  

So she did.  She ran to him, tears breaking free and falling from her eyes as she threw her arms around his neck.  He didn’t flinch or stiffen up as she expected him to, but simply took a step back so as to not fall down from the force and suddenness of the embrace, and wrapped his arms around her just as tightly. 

Liss buried her face into the curve between his neck and shoulder,  and the rest of the world fell away. There was no Denerim, no palace, no Alistair or Lucia staring in confused silence as she knew they had to be. There was only her and Nate, together in the same room for the first time in entirely too long.  

After a brief moment, Nate cleared his throat and began to pull away from her.  She prepared to be hurt, but when she looked up at him, he had turned his head to look at Lucia, her tired eyes asking him for something she didn’t say aloud.  

Liss glanced back at Alistair who smiled sadly.  Embarrassment poured over her and her cheeks burned hot.  Maker, she had kissed Alistair just as Lucia and Nate walked in, hadn’t she? They’d seen and now she had just thrown herself into Nate’s arms.  Damn her and her stupid impulsivity. She thought the guilt might strangle her, and then Nate tugged at her arm. 

“I’m going to go—“ he hesitated— “Replace these flasks before the apothecary closes.  Do you want to come?”

Liss met his gaze, then looked between Lucia and Alistair before looking back at Nate and nodding.  “Yes, please.”  

Nate nodded at Lucia and turned to open the door, holding it open for Liss to walk through, before following behind her.  

“The apothecary, huh,” Liss asked as they walked out into the courtyard, “You know, I just read a book about an apothecary who falls in love with a beautiful Templar.”

“We don’t actually have to go to the apothecary… unless you want to,” Nate said with a smirk, ignoring her comment about the book, “I just figured the Commander and Alistair might need some privacy to talk.”

“The vestibule is not exactly private.”

“No,” he sighed, eyes pointed at her like daggers, “It isn’t.”

“Right.” She brought her hands to her face and dropped her head. “I’m just going to go throw myself down a well.”

To her surprise, Nate laughed, and she gathered the courage to look at him again.  His eyes were closed and he shook his head. “Please don’t.”

“No, no, really it’ll be best for everyone,” she said with a laugh even though it didn’t feel quite as funny as she hoped. The lump in her throat wasn’t helping.  Nor were the tears that had returned to her eyes. Damn it. 

Nate touched her shoulder and she looked up at him, a single tear rolling down her cheek.  She took a deep breath and attempted to compose herself. It would be so easy to break down into a mess of tears, to spill her guts to him, but this was not how she wanted their reunion to be.

“I’m sorry.  I am quite a mess,” she explained, sniffing a bit. “I just got back from Highever, and—“

“You don’t have to apologize.”

“But—“

“I spent months thinking you were dead, that Father—,” he trailed off — “It is good to see you.  Mess or not.”

“It’s good to see you, too,” she replied.

Nate inhaled deeply, and looked out toward the city. “We have quite a bit to discuss, don’t we?” 

“Mhmm.”

“Are you up for a drink?” He turned to look at her.  

“I’m up for several,” Liss remarked dryly. 

“Me too,”  Nate admitted with a sigh. “Which tavern shall we grace with our presence then?”

A smile twitched on her lips and she waved for him to follow her down into the Market District.  There were several taverns in town, but The Gnawed Noble had become Liss’ personal favorite, especially since the Landsmeet ended, and all of the disgruntled nobility left with it. The tavern was closest to the palace and right at the heart of the market, and it was particularly clean compared to some of the other places. It was worth the extra price for that alone.

Upon entering the tavern, a cacophony of raucous laughter, slurred conversation, and clumsily plucked lute strings filled Liss’ ears.  The air inside smelled strongly of ale and sweat, but it was warm, and had plenty of distraction were she to need it. Things had never been awkward with Nate before, but they had been children the last time they spoke.  She was a different person now, in many ways, and she figured that he probably was, too. 

They selected a table in the back corner of the room and sat down.  A barmaid approached to take their orders, and they gave them. She blushed and giggled when Nate thanked her and called her “my lady.”  Liss wasn’t jealous, no, but she found the woman’s laugh grating and wished she would do her job instead of standing around and flirting with the patrons.  When she finally walked away, an uncomfortable, heavy silence fell between them that somehow seemed louder than all of the noise in the tavern. Liss stared at the table intently, as if she were attempting to count the ridges in the wood.

“Liss,” Nate spoke up, grabbing her attention from the wood grain, “I know that this probably goes without saying, but I believe it is important for me to say anyway.” 

“You don’t have to apologize for your father,” Liss interrupted bluntly. 

“I do, and I will,” he asserted, “I may not be responsible for my father’s evil, but he’s dead, and someone should apologize for what he did.”

“You sound like Anora.”    


“I’ve heard worse comparisons.”  Nate paused as the maid returned and sat two large tankards, filled to the brim, down on the table.  He thanked her again, and she ran her hand along his shoulder. Liss shook away the fantasy about setting her on fire with her eyes, and listened as Nate continued speaking.  “I am truly sorry for what my father did to your family. I hope you know that if I had been there, I would never have let it happen. I would have died first.” 

“Well,” Liss said, taking a sip of the cider in her tankard, “You weren’t there, were you?”

Nate flinched and blinked at her several times.  She immediately regretted her choice of words and tone, but they were honest.  She needed to be honest with him. 

“I wasn’t,” Nate answered, taking a long drink from his own tankard and setting it back down, “Whether you believe me or not, I am sorry for that too.  Your family was more like family to me than my own, and I loved them. I wish I had been with you all that night.”

“You shouldn’t wish that, Nate,” Liss warned him gravely, “It was a nightmare.” 

“I know, and I’m sorry that you had to face it alone.”

“Stop apologizing,” Liss blurted, nearly shouting, “I’m so tired of people apologizing to me for things that have already happened.  It’s a pointless waste of breath. No amount of “sorry” is going to bring my parents back. Nothing anyone says is going to make me stop seeing my nephew’s lifeless little body in my nightmares.”

“I—” 

“It’s fine, Nathaniel,” she said, anger deflating and she took another drink, “It’s not your fault.  I’d never blame you for something your father did. I’d just rather not talk about it right now.” 

“Very well,” Nate stated sharply, the crease between his brows and set in his jaw betrayed his hurt, “What would you like to talk about?”

“Maybe it’d be good to start with catching up,” Liss offered him a gentle smile in hopes to atone for her prior harshness.  “Tell me about Starkhaven, the Wardens! It all sounds so...exciting. I’m envious.” 

“It is not as glamorous as you might think,” he laughed, “But I am happy to entertain you.” 

They spent the next hour or so drinking as Nate shared tales of his time in the Free Marches, about the times he competed in the Grand Tourney, about the different foods and music, about what his training as a squire involved.  Not glamorous? Liss begged to differ. She would have given a limb for that kind of adventure. The Wardens, however, he refused to speak much about. He mentioned how he came to be a Warden, spoke about some of his comrades, but refused to speak of much else.  “Private Warden business,” whatever that meant. She decided not to prod him about it. 

He was quiet for a moment, as if he was trying to gather his thoughts. 

“What’s on your mind?” Liss tilted her head and he laughed uncomfortably.

“I suppose there is no tactful way to ask.”

“You’re wondering about Alistair.” She had figured she would need to explain it to him eventually. 

“Yes.”

“I honestly don’t know,” she said with a sigh, “We’re friends. There have been times over the past few months where it felt like more than that, when I thought he might care for me in a different way, but I think it was just loneliness on both of our parts.  I’ve always known he was still in love with Lucia. It was stupid of me to kiss him, especially earlier in the vestibule. We had already decided that we were just going to be friends. I was just being affectionate. I am an idiot, and this is why I belong in a well.  That way, everyone will be safe from my errant lips.”

“‘Errant lips,’” Nate asked, laughing through his nose, “That is one way of putting it.”

“It’s not funny, Nate,” she exclaimed, “Every time I kiss someone, something terrible happens. I’m a menace to society.”

“Whatever you say, my lady,” he teased and she felt heat crawl to her cheeks.

“You don’t believe me.”

“I just don’t recall your lips bothering me,” Nate stated matter-of-factly. 

“I—“ She choked.  He was so much bolder than before. “Uh. Well.  You did have to leave.”

Nate chuckled and shook his head. “Fair enough.”

By the time the conversation died, they had both finished their drinks.  Liss’ face was warm and her head spun. She couldn’t decide if she was actually dizzy from the whirlwind of a day she’d had, or just drunk.  She watched as Nate paid the barmaid, placing the coins in her hand and smiling. He looked just like he had so many years ago, only not quite as thin.  He also had a ridiculous little patch of hair on his chin. It suited him, but that wasn’t going to stop her from teasing him about it later.

If there was to be a later. It dawned on her that he would eventually have to leave again.  He’d have to go back to the Wardens, Alistair too, and she’d be alone again. Panic began to creepl up her spine and tighten in her chest. She bit it back clenching her fists until her nails dig into the skin of her palms. Then, a warm touch to her hand drew her out of her thoughts.  She looked down to see Nate’s hand covering hers. 

“Are you all right, Liss?” His pale eyes were filled with concern for her that she wished wasn’t there. 

She waved a hand at him. “I’m fine. I’m just very tired, and the cider is… getting to me.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.” She pulled her hand out from under his gently and stood up, pushing her chair in. “I just need to get some sleep, I think.”

“Let’s get back to the palace, then,” Nate said as he stood to join her. 

It was later than Liss thought, when they stepped out of the tavern.  The moons and stars shone brightly in the sky and Denerim was quieter than she’d ever seen it.  She wondered how things had gone for Alistair and Lucia, and hoped that they would not encounter them in the hallway.  She wasn’t quite ready to face the much-deserved wrath of the Hero of Ferelden.  

She walked by Nate’s side, occasionally glancing over at him, if only to remind herself that he was really there. It wasn’t just her imagination.  It wasn’t long before they reached the palace. They entered to find the vestibule empty and shards of glass gone, as if nothing had ever happened.  They headed up a few flights of stairs and down a hallway toward the guest wing. Both of their rooms were located there, Liss realized, but were on opposite ends of the hall. 

They came to her door first, and she stopped, turning to face him. “This is me.”

Nate nodded and frowned, clearly searching for words again.  “I suppose this is goodnight, then.”

Liss nodded, but stayed exactly where she was, not ready to turn and enter her room.  He seemed equally stuck, which offered her some comfort. 

“Listen, um, thank you for this,” she said finally, “For tonight. I needed it.”

“You’re welcome,” he said, closing his mouth sharply, but then opening it back up again as if to say something.  He didn’t. He must have thought better of it.  

Unable to bear it any longer, Liss brought her eyes up to meet his, and took Fergus’ advice for the first time in her life.  “I’ve missed you.”

“Liss,” Nate said, placing his hands on her shoulders before drawing her into an embrace. “I’ve missed you, too.”

She wrapped her arms around his waist and squeezed, exhaling all of her tension against his chest and then leaned back to look up at him. His eyes watched her intently, and she wanted nothing more than to kiss him, just as she had the night before he left, but she couldn’t.  He had just walked in to see her kissing another man. Even if he wanted to, which she doubted, it would be in poor taste. She thought too much of him to make him feel as if she was using him for comfort.

They broke the embrace, said their goodnights, and Liss turned to enter her room, closing the door behind her.  As uncertain as everything was, as uneasy as the sensation in her chest, she was so much more at ease just knowing Nate was there.  He felt like home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a little nod to dalish-ish's fic in this chapter. I've been reading it, and it is very good. Go check it out if you haven't already <3


	24. Rumors and Regards

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fergus get's married, and Liss tries to cope with Nathaniel's absence.

_**Highever, 9:23 Dragon** _

 

> Dear Nate,
> 
> I have been sitting at my desk, staring at this blank parchment for hours now, trying to figure out what to say.  It’s weird, writing letters. Planning my words carefully is not exactly a skill of mine. It’s hard for me to write an entire conversation without being able to see your face.  How am I supposed to know that I am being ridiculous if you aren’t here to roll your eyes at me?
> 
> If you were here right now, I’d just skip the words and hug you.  Too bad I can’t send a hug with this letter.
> 
> How is Starkhaven?  Mama’s been there before. She says it’s beautiful, and quite a lot different from Ferelden.  Do they really eat fish pie there? It sounds absolutely disgusting, but you know I’d try it at least once.  I’ve been reading about the Vael family, too, but I am certain that you don’t want to read pages of me going on about Amadis Vael and the Ruby Drakes who aided the Grey Wardens during the Fourth Blight , so I’ll just leave it at that. (She was really amazing, though. You should read about her sometime!)
> 
> Fergus’ wedding is today.  Actually, I probably should be running around like a headless chicken just like everyone else, getting ready.  I am just not that excited about it. Don’t get me wrong, Oriana is wonderful, and I am so glad my brother has someone who loves him and makes him happy, but it just reminds me that I’m alone.  It’s not as if I want to be married any time soon, or even ever. That’s not a priority of mine, but it would be nice to think that someone might love me like that someday. 
> 
> Last summer, I almost thought— well, never mind what I thought.  It doesn’t matter now. You’re gone, and any feelings you might possibly have for me are gone with you.  I just wish we had actually had time to talk about the kiss and what it meant. I tried and tried to tell myself that it was just some stupid, drunken thing, but that’s not true, at least not on my end.  
> 
> Nate, I think I’m in love with you.  I’ve tried everything I can think of to explain my feelings, but none of it makes sense.  I think I’ve loved you for a really long time, and didn’t realize it because it’s not like the love I’ve read about in stories.  It’s not some grand, magical thing. It’s not anything I thought love was supposed to be. I’m still not sure how to explain it, but it hurts, especially now that you’re not here.  It’s like a part of me is missing. It’s stupid, I know, but that’s the truth. 
> 
> I don’t expect you to feel the same way about me.  Please don’t think that. I just think that I might actually explode if I hold all of these feelings inside.  I thought I owed it to myself to be brave and tell you. I thought you should know. 
> 
> Really, what I want to say most, is that I miss you.  Summer just isn’t the same without you here. I hope that you are faring better than I, and that you learn a lot during your training.  I know you didn’t want to go, but I am still envious of you. Maybe one day, when you come back to Ferelden — if you come back to Ferelden— you can tell me all about it. 
> 
> Love,
> 
> Liss

Liss folded the parchment, slid it in an envelope, and sealed it with a wax stamp as quickly as she could. Before someone could read what she wrote.  Before she could change her mind. She could, of course, still shred the letter or drop it in the fireplace. That was the good thing about letters: Until they were sent, you could always take back the words you wrote.  She didn’t think she would. As much as the thought of telling Nate she loved him terrified her, the thought of not telling him terrified her more. 

A tear dropped from her chin to land on the polished wooden surface of her desk.  She had done so well, too, making it through the entirety of the letter without crying all over the parchment.  She wiped at her eyes and cheeks with the backs of her hands, attempting to scrub away the evidence of her broken heart, but they just kept coming. Stupid heart.  Stupid eyes. Stupid tears.

A knock at the door stiffened her back and she worked even harder to hide the fact that she’d been crying.

“Y-Yes,” she muttered, “Come in.”

The door creaked open behind her and she looked over her shoulder to see her father, dressed in his formal attire. His greying hair was combed and styled handsomely.  Despite being so polished, his expression was haggard as it always was when Liss did something bothersome. This time, it was probably just her red eyes and swollen nose.

“My girl, what in Thedas is the matter?”  His voice resonated with concern as he moved closer to look at her face as if he would find the answer written on her forehead. 

“I miss Nathaniel,” she said, standing and turning to face him, pressing her lips together to keep them from quivering.  She held the envelope between her fingers and extended it out to him. “I was just… writing him a letter.”

“I know you care for Nathaniel, and that it’s been difficult for you since he left,” he answered gently, but the irritation was evident in his voice, “But Fergus’ wedding will start in just over an hour.  Don’t you think it could have waited until later?”

She shook her head. “No, I don’t.“

He laughed and smiled sympathetically as he took the letter from her hand and tucked it into his coat. “All right, pup,” he said, kissing her forehead, “I’ll take your word for it.  I’ll send it out first thing in the morning.”

“Thank you, Papa,” she mumbled, “I’ll go get ready now.”

Liss turned to wander away and get ready, when Papa called out to her again. 

“Liss,” he said and she stopped to look back at him.

“Mhmm?”

“I’m sure that you already know this, but your mother asked me to remind you—“

“I know Arl Howe is here,” she interrupted, “Don’t worry. I won’t say anything to him. I’d actually rather pretend he isn’t here.”

“Well, you can’t blame us for being concerned.” He sighed. “You have a history of… saying whatever comes to mind.”

“I will be on my best behavior,” she promised, meeting her father’s gaze directly to show him she was serious. 

“Please do,” Papa said, almost a plea, “If not for mine and your mother’s sake, for Fergus’ and Oriana’s.”

Liss nodded, kissed him on the cheek, and he exited the room.  He closed the door gently behind him, leaving her to make herself presentable.  If she could not engage in outward protest of Rendon Howe’s presence at the wedding after he ripped Nathaniel from their family, she would at least refuse to let him get to her.  He would not have the gratification of seeing her upset. 

Of course, it was easy to tell herself that he wouldn’t bother her, and another thing entirely to see his beady-eyed arrogance as he walked into the Chantry with Thomas and Delilah at his side. Liss had not expected her reaction to be so staggering and visceral, and she’d never wanted to spit in someone’s face as much as she did that slimy weasel of a man.  Maker help her if he attempted to flaunt his preferred son about in front of her face like some sort of twisted consolation prize.  

Delilah, pretty as a flower, long dark hair braided elegantly, waved at Liss subtly from across the room, and Liss returned the gesture.  At her side, Thomas stood stiffly, all of the color washed from his handsome face, dark eyes sunken in and hollow. Liss pitied him. It was difficult to imagine the pressure he was under as his father’s heir.  Nate once told her about how Tom had the hardest time handling their father, and how he’d been drinking a lot. She imagined things had only gotten worse without his big brother.  

The ceremony was lovely, even more so than Liss would have imagined, elaborate Antivan decorations brightening up the drab Fereldan chantry hall.  Liss focused her attention on the front of the room where her brother stood, fidgeting nervously and wiping at the corners of his eyes as he looked at Oriana.  He seemed so grown up in all of his finery that it was hard to believe he was the same person as the clunky boy Liss had always known. He was a proper man now, and she was so proud of him.  She turned to see both of her parents smiling, sniffling, and blotting tears from their eyes while Fergus and Oriana promised, before their families, friends, and the Maker himself, that they would love one another forever. 

Liss hoped, with everything she had, that they could.  

The formal ceremony concluded with the newly married couple’s kiss, and the attendees filed out of the Chantry in a hurry, most likely ready to return to the castle, where a feast was to be had.  Liss was in no such hurry and meandered about slowly behind the crowd. She wasn’t exactly hungry, and the idea of a large hall full of rowdy people and loud music was not as appealing to her as it typically would have been.  When she reached the castle, chatter already rang out into the courtyard, where several of the guests stood about gossiping. 

Several pairs of unfamiliar faces examined her as she approached.  It was rude, but she smiled at them nonetheless. When she walked past, she could hear them whispering behind her.  Lies and nonsense spread about after her dance with Nathaniel last year. She could not count the number of rumors her parents had to discount since then.  Rumors that she was betrothed to Thomas and having an affair with Nathaniel. Rumors that she danced with Nathaniel as a cover for her secret relationship with a servant.  Rumors that Liss was “promiscuous,” and Nathaniel was just one of a long list of romantic conquests. Rumors that Nathaniel was a troubled young man who took advantage of her, and that’s why he was sent away the very next year.  Liss wasn’t certain that Nate’s father hadn’t concocted every last one of them himself. 

It all infuriated Liss so much she thought she might catch on fire, her hands tightening into fists at her sides as she bit her tongue and held her breath to keep from turning and giving the noble arseholes a piece of her mind. It made her sick to think that grown men and women had nothing better to do than spread vile, hateful rumors about people more than half their age, about _children_.  She tried to remember what Papa had told her when she’d first heard them.  “Anyone who matters, knows better than to believe this nonsense, and anyone who believes it doesn’t matter.”  

She managed to keep her nose down and make it past the gossipers and through the gates into the main hall without incident.  She realized she probably shouldn’t have kept her nose down for so long when she bumped directly into another person. She looked up, prepared to apologize, and her blood ran cold. 

“You shouldn’t walk with your head down, Lady Cousland,” said Arl Howe in a voice that sounded as if it came more from his nose than from his mouth, “It is unbecoming.”

She would show him unbecoming, she thought, but knew better, and painted on an apologetic smile on her face instead. “Forgive me, my lord.  I am afraid my brother inherited all of the good manners.” 

“It seems that is the case in every family,” he replied with a hateful grin, pausing to watch as Liss attempted to not show her discomfort, and then continued, “Nathaniel sends his regards.” 

“What would I care for his regards, my lord,” she asked, through her teeth.

“It is my understanding that you two were close,” he explained with more than a little insincerity. 

“We were.”  Liss fought back the tears in her eyes and the rage in her chest.

“And yet,  you don’t care for his regards?”  He quirked up an eyebrow at her.

“No, my lord,” she stated, cooly, “I don’t.  Not from you.” 

Arl Howe flinched, opening and closing his mouth a few times.  He had clearly not expected her to be so bold. If she were honest, she hadn’t either and instantly regretted her decision.  There would be no taking it back. Panic swelled in her stomach and flushed her face, and then a hand fell gently on her shoulder.  

“My apologies, Arl Rendon,” a silvery, voice Liss knew to be Oriana’s rang out, “I need to borrow Lady Elissa for a bit.  Family business and such.” 

Liss turned to look at the woman whose gaze was locked on the arl’s, a beautiful and sincere smile painting her face.  Then she shifted her gaze back to Arl Howe, who narrowed his eyes. 

“By all means,” he muttered and waved them away with a dismissive flip of his hand. 

“Come on,” Oriana said to Liss, motioning to the door that led to the gardens with her head. 

They walked arm in arm to the gardens, Oriana smiling and waving graciously at guests as she passed by, stopping just a few times to thank a few people who congratulated her.  She was perfect and elegant and everyone loved her in a way that made Liss know she was made to be the Teyrna of Highever. She’d never felt more thankful for “family business,” in her life, whatever it was. 

When they reached the gardens, Oriana released Liss’ arm and turned to face her, placing a hand on each of her shoulders.  “Are you all right?”

“Mhmm.”  Liss nodded absently and looked around for the other members of her family before looking back at Oriana.  “What is the family business.” 

“There is none,” she replied with a wink, “I just wanted to get you away from that horrible man.  Are you certain that you are all right?”  

Liss wanted to tell her she was fine, that she had just had an uncomfortable exchange with the arl, and that it was not a big deal.  She didn’t want to burden Oriana with her own stupid problems on her wedding day. She should be inside with Fergus, having fun eating and drinking, celebrating their marriage.  She shouldn’t be out in the gardens consoling her husband’s pathetic little sister. 

She wanted to do all of those things, but she could not keep the hot tears from pooling in her eyes under Oriana’s concerned gaze.  She couldn’t stop them from falling down her cheeks, and dripping from her chin. So she shook her head slowly. “No,” she said hoarsely, “I’m not.” 

“Oh, poor girl,” she said sweetly and pulled Liss into a protective sort of embrace with one hand in her hair, “I am sorry I did not get to you sooner.” 

Unable to hold back the flood of emotions any longer, especially with the other woman’s overt sympathy, Liss wrapped her arms around her and sobbed as Oriana raked gentle fingers through her hair, occasionally reassuring her that everything would be okay.  Liss eventually calmed down enough to pull away from Oriana and apologize. 

“I’m sorry,” she said, sniffing, “You shouldn’t be… it’s your wedding and—”

“Nonsense,” Oriana interrupted affectionately, “We are sisters now. Family.  We take care of one another, yes?”

“I, um…” Liss trailed off, too flustered and appreciative to form coherent words, “Thank you.” 

Oriana took her hand and led her over to one of the stone benches that sat before the fountain centerpiece.  She sat down and motioned for Liss to join her.

“I have heard the lies these people speak about you, Elissa,” she began, staring out at the water glistening in the fountain, “They have made similar claims about me.” 

“Really?”

“Yes.  Anything to destroy my relationship with Fergus, to make him question me.” Oriana closed her eyes and laughed. “Did you know that I am secretly the black sheep of a wealthy Antivan family, who paid your father handsomely to take me off of their hands?”

“They said that about you?”

“It is easier for them to believe than the truth, which is that Fergus fell in love with a commoner.” 

“That’s so—” Liss began, but paused when she realized her voice had grown too loud in the excitement— “Stupid.” 

“They are small people, Elissa. Insignificant.  Their tiny little minds cannot understand anything beyond power and wealth.  That Rendon Howe is the worst.” 

“I hate him,” Liss spat.

“Me, too,” Oriana agreed, sighing and shifting a bit where she sat.  She was silent for several moments and then a smile twitched on her lips.  “It feels good to say that out loud.” 

Liss giggled in agreement, and then looked at Oriana more seriously.  “Thank you for rescuing me.” 

“It is nothing, honestly,” Oriana said with a laugh, waving her hand vaguely. 

“I am glad you are part of our family.” 

Oriana smiled gently. “I can’t imagine a better family to be a part of.” 

Footsteps rustled through the grass several feet away, and Liss snapped her had in the direction of the noise, only to see Fergus grinning from ear to ear. 

“Oriana, love, everyone’s been asking where you’ve—” he stopped when he noticed Liss— “Liss?” 

“Surprise,” Liss said dryly.  

Fergus narrowed his eyes and stared at her much as Papa had done earlier, and she began to wonder if she really did have answers written on her forehead.  “You’ve been crying?”

“I always cry.” 

“Not like this, you don’t.” He knelt down and placed his hands on her shoulders.  “What happened, Liss? Was it those damned rumors again?”

Liss nodded, tears coming back to her eyes.

“Who?” Fergus’ tone was more serious than she could ever recall hearing it. “I will kick their arses out so fast, Liss, just say the word.” 

“Nobody I recognized,” Liss explained quickly, as touched by her brother’s protectiveness as she was alarmed, “It was just a lot, and then I ran into Arl Howe… literally.” 

“Shit, sis.”

“He was not pleased, but I apologized, and I did so well…”

“But?”

“He told me that Nathaniel sent his regards,” she answered sheepishly.

Fergus sighed. “And you told him where to shove them, didn’t you?”  

“Basically,” she admitted, but immediately added, “I was so angry it just slipped out.  Luckily Oriana showed up before anything else happened.” 

“And thank the Maker for that,” he said, eyeing his wife with admiration before turning back to Liss, “Sadly, Howe is probably the only person whose arse I can’t kick out tonight, or I would.” 

“I know,” she replied before frowning playfully, “Now go back and enjoy your party.  Both of you.” 

“Only if you come with us,” Oriana chimed in and Fergus nodded. 

Liss feigned a sigh, and relented.  She would not let Arl Howe or an army of rumors get the better of her.  They were small and insignificant, especially with her family by her side.


	25. Love, Nathaniel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unable to sleep, Nathaniel decides to do what he should have done a long time ago.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know the entire story is marked for this, but I just wanted to add a brief TW reminder for discussion of trauma and posttraumatic symptoms.

**_Denerim, 9:31 Dragon_ **

Nathaniel closed the door to his room and leaned back against it with a sigh.  His heartbeat pounded in his chest, throbbed in his ears, and his head was spinning.  He made the journey to Denerim specifically to see Liss, and still he was completely unprepared for the staggering reality of standing in the same room with her for the first time in nine years. He had nearly forgotten the effect she had on him, how hard it was to breathe around her without the words spilling out.  Years of hiding and denying, telling himself she was his past and not his future, ignoring her letters, becoming involved with other people, and he still loved her just as much as he did the night they kissed on her bedroom floor. 

He should have written to her. The girl he loved his entire life wrote him a letter confessing that she loved him too, and he had been a coward.  What was he so afraid of? His father? The distance? The lung-crushing, overwhelming fear that he would love her like that forever and never get to be with her?  He laughed bitterly and flopped down on his bed. The joke was on him, wasn’t it? His father was dead, he was just down the hall from her, and he was paralyzed. How could he tell her his feelings now? If he could go back in time and kick his own stupid eighteen year-old arse, he would.  

Still, he could not dismiss the hope that blossomed in his chest.  Despite everything that had happened in the time they were apart, despite Liss’ new sharp edges and bitterness,  she still ran to him and embraced him, told him she missed him. That couldn’t mean nothing, could it? 

Nathaniel inhaled, and breathed out a long, slow breath in an attempt to quiet his restless mind and soothe his restless body so that he could sleep.  He did not actually want to sleep, discouraged by the threat of taint-fueled nightmares looming over him. He rarely wanted to sleep anymore. He wondered if they would ever go away. 

Just as he began to drift off, a knock at the door jolted him upright, and he was thankful he had not bothered to undress. He slid out of bed and rushed to the door, only partially wondering who might be knocking at such a late hour.  It was something Liss had always done. Had she come back?

He pulled the door open and flinched at the dark hair and pale eyes looking up at him.  Definitely not Liss.

“Lucia,” he asked furrowing his eyebrows and blinking a few times.  Her tired eyes and nose were swollen and red from crying, although her face was dry now.  Every bit of it was out of character for the stoic, put-together woman. 

She eyed him knowingly, a small, muted smile curving on her lips. “You look like you were expecting someone else.”

“And you look like a mess,” he replied quickly, a reflex, “No offense.”

“None taken.”  Lucia looked down at the floor as she kicked at it with her boot.  When she brought her eyes back up to him, there were tears welling up in them. “Can we talk?”

Nathaniel nodded and stepped out of the doorway so that she could enter.  She walked into the room hesitantly, looking around as she did so. She stopped and stood, still as a statue at the center, eyes fixed on the fireplace.  He closed the door and moved to stand beside her. 

“Would you like to sit?”

She took a deep breath and blinked slowly before turning to look at him and nod.  She was so deliberate in her actions, even the small ones, a stark comparison to Liss.  Nathaniel pulled out a chair for her at the small table in the corner of the room. He sat down in the chair across from her and waited for her to speak.

“Sorry to bother you,” she muttered, “I know it’s late.”

“It’s fine,” he reassured her, “I wasn’t sleeping.”

“I thought you might have… company.”

“No.” Nathaniel laughed and shook his head.

“You and that woman, Elissa,” Lucia stated,“You two seem close.”

“We were,” he admitted, shifting in his seat, “Our fathers fought together during the rebellion, and our families were allies.  We were friends as children. I haven’t seen her in years, though.”

“What is she like,” she asked, straight-faced, lips pressing into a thin line.  That’s what she had come to talk about, then. 

“Lucia, I don’t think—“ 

“Please, Nathaniel,” she insisted, eyes watering, “I need to know.”

“I know that you probably want to hear that she’s a horrible person,” he began, with a sigh, “I can’t give you that.”

“That’s not what I want,”she explained, smiling gently, “I already know that she isn’t.  If she were, Alistair wouldn’t care for her as he does.”

“He cares for her?”  His tone was a bit sharper than he would have liked. 

“Yes.”

“I suppose it would be hard not to,” he grumbled, shaking away the jealousy he had not earned. “What do you want to know?”

“I don’t know,” Lucia said, voice cracking, and she began to wipe at her eyes, “I have no right to be angry with her, because I am the one who left without any assurance that I would be back. I am the one who didn’t write to Alistair the entire time I was away.  It’s my fault all of this happened. Sometimes I wonder if it would have been better for me to just have sacrificed myself to kill the Archdemon like all of the other heroes from Blights in the past.”

Though he knew it was disrespectful, Nathaniel couldn’t help but laugh and shake his head at her.

She frowned.  “What?”

“Do you hear yourself?” His laughter died down and he fixed her with a serious expression. “Your relationship is on the rocks, so you think you should have died?”

“It’s not that simple, Nathaniel,” Lucia stated tersely, “Defeating the Archdemon without a Grey Warden dying still involved a sacrifice.  Something I had to ask of Alistair. We made the decision together with the expectation that we would face the consequences together.”

“But you left,” Nathaniel remarked, “And now you think that everything that has happened since then is your fault.”

“Yes.”

“That’s bullshit,” he stated firmly, and she flinched, clearly not expecting him to argue. 

“I caused this,” she protested, “If I had just died like I was supposed to none of this would have happened.”

“Maybe not, but you’d be dead, and the world would be worse for it.”

“I—thank you.” A lone tear rolled down her cheek and she didn’t stop it this time. “I must sound like such a whiny child.”

“You sound like someone who has been through too much to only be—“ he trailed off, attempting to recall if she’d ever told him her age.  If she had, he couldn’t remember. “How old are you anyway?”

“Nineteen.” 

“ _ Nineteen?  _ Andraste’s blood.”  She was even younger than he expected, barely more than a child.  

“I know.  I am old enough that I should be able to handle things like this.  It’s just a bump in a relationship, not the end of the world.”

“Nineteen… and you raised an army, killed an Archdemon.” He laughed in disbelief.  “You saved Ferelden.”

“After all of that, you would think I’d be better at managing my personal affairs,” Lucia shook her head and sighed. 

“Are you even listening?” Nathaniel raised his voice slightly, frustrated. “ I am trying to tell you that you’re being too hard on yourself.”

“But—“

“When I was nineteen, I was in Starkhaven, drinking too much and making incredibly poor decisions.”

“Worse than mine?”

“I ignored years of letters from someone I loved, and threw myself into a relationship with someone else I didn’t love because it was convenient.” He shrugged. “So, I don’t know.  It depends on what qualifies as worse.” 

“I can’t imagine you doing something like that.”  Her brows pressed together, lips curling into a frown. “You’re such a thoughtful person.”

“That’s just it,” he answered, lips twitching into a smirk, “Everyone makes stupid mistakes when they’re young. Everyone behaves selfishly from time to time.”

“I don’t know that I appreciate my current situation being reduced down to youthful behavior.  It feels more serious than that.” Lucia’s expression was sour, but she laughed anyway. 

”It always does.”

“Do you regret your decisions?”

“Every day.” He sighed and offered her a reassuring smile. “I wish I had recognized my mistakes when I was nineteen, instead of wasting years of my life trying to figure it out.”

“Did you figure it out,”Lucia asked, bright eyes blinking at him, her hands on her chin. 

“That’s why I came to Denerim.”

“Your ‘personal business,’ right.  I wondered, but did not feel it was my place to ask.” She narrowed her eyes and tilted her head slightly, as if attempting to read his mind, and he suddenly felt very self-conscious. 

“The reason I hesitated to tell you about Elissa is that she is the reason I am here,” he confessed.  “I love her. I thought my opinion would be biased.” 

“Oh.” Lucia’s smile dropped from her face.  “I’m sorry. I have been so caught up in my own concerns.  I didn’t even think. I can’t imagine you feel any better about seeing her and Alistair together than I do.” 

“It wasn’t my favorite thing to walk in on, but it doesn’t really matter.”  Nathaniel laughed and raked a hand through his hair. It was more embarrassing to speak about than he would have anticipated.  “I’m just happy that she is alive, that I got to see her again at all.” 

Lucia stared blankly at the grain of the wooden table, something it seemed all of the women in his life tended to do when they were thinking.  

“What’s on your mind,” he asked. 

“I suppose I am having a harder time dealing with all of this than you are.”  She looked up at him and smiled. “I have very negative thoughts about Alistair and Elissa both.”

“That’s only fair.” 

“I wish I could forget it all, pretend none of this ever happened.”  She slammed her fist down on the table as she spoke, and a small patch of ice formed where her fist landed. “Damn it,” she hissed at the lapse of control and stood up abruptly, her eyes wide and jaw clenched, “I need to get some air.” 

“Are you going to be all right?”

“Yes,” she replied with a decisive nod, “Thank you, Nathaniel. For everything.” 

Lucia turned and left the room before he had the opportunity to tell her he did nothing to warrant a thanks, but she probably would not have accepted that response anyway.  She was an interesting woman, so mature and responsible and some ways, despite being completely inexperienced in others. There was nothing he could say that would make her broken heart ache any less, nothing that would relieve her anger. She would have to give herself permission to feel them, a lesson Nathaniel could stand to learn himself.  He hoped, for her sake, she figured it out sooner than he did. 

Nathaniel did not need to worry about nightmares, as sleep eluded him entirely.  He lay awake as hour by painstaking hour passed by, mind buzzing, until he could bear it no longer.  He sighed forcefully and got out of bed, walking to a desk at the other side of the excessively spacious room.  Thankfully, the fire still burned in the fireplace, warming the room, and providing plenty of light for him to see what he was doing.  Taking a few pieces of parchment from one of the drawers, he sat down to write.

> Tom, 
> 
> I received your letter, and as much as I want to be angry that you’ve runoff to Maker-Knows-Where, Antiva, and asked me to keep this a secret from our sister, I am only relieved to hear that you are alive and happy.  I know that I’ve been a piss poor excuse for a brother since I left for Starkhaven. I should have stayed in contact with you and Delilah, written more often, come home sooner. I should have stood up to Father in the first place and protected you both. For all I pretended to be brave, I was just a frightened little boy.  I am sorry that I failed you. 
> 
> I am a Grey Warden now— long story, but it has been good for me.  The work is distasteful to put it lightly, but it is honorable, and something I can be proud of.  I remember how Father hated the Wardens because our grandfather abandoned his family to join the ranks, never to be heard from again.  I can’t say why, but I no longer believe that story. If you ever decide to come back from the dead, I will have to introduce you to some of my comrades; there is a dwarf, Oghren, who I think you’d get along with rather well.
> 
> Delilah’s married. And pregnant, due in just under a month if I have kept proper track of it all.  She and her husband fled from Amaranthine to Kirkwall to escape disease and darkspawn. He has family there, and the last I heard everyone is safe and happy.  She misses you. I’m sending something of hers along with the letter. She once gave it to me, but I think it would better serve you now.  
> 
> It is good that you’ve stopped drinking. I’m proud of you, and for more reasons than just that. 
> 
> I hope that Antiva treats you well.  Stay out of trouble. 
> 
> Love,
> 
> Nathaniel

Nathaniel tugged at the collar of his shirt and pulled at the twine that held Delilah’s tiny golden ring she’d given him when he spent his first summer in Highever. It had been his constant reminder that he was loved, and it kept him company for many, many years.  He did not need it anymore. He had Delilah, he had the Wardens, he had Fergus, and if the Maker willed it, he would have Liss, too. Nathaniel knew that Thomas would be fine, but sentimentality got the better of him and wanted his brother to have it. He removed the ring from his neck, and tucked it inside an envelope along with the letter, and sealed it with a wax stamp.  He would take it to the Antivan contact later, when the market opened. 

Placing the envelope to the side, he picked up another piece of parchment and placed it in front of him.  He still had one more letter to write. 

> Dear Liss,
> 
> I think we can both agree that this letter is long overdue.  I am not certain where to begin, other than to say that I am sorry for never writing to you .  I was young, stupid, and hurting so much that I could hardly stand it. Losing you was like losing a limb, some large part of myself that I could learn to live without, but only if I pretended I never had it in the first place.  I am not saying it was a good choice, but it was the only way I knew how to cope. It was selfish and inconsiderate, and I hope that you can forgive me. 
> 
> I have many regrets, the biggest being that I never told you how I felt about you.  There is no time like the present, I suppose. Even if it is too late, I need you to know, or it will drive me crazy for the rest of my life.
> 
> The truth is, Liss, I love you.  I have loved you since the day you crawled out from under my bed on my first night in Highever, and I wasn’t even old enough to know what love was.  I just knew that being near you made me feel better, and that there was nowhere else in Thedas I wanted to be. It frustrated me to no end that you could not see all that I saw in you, that you thought you were so average. You could not be average if you tried. 
> 
> I want you to know that regardless of where we go from here, no matter what happens between us, I won’t think any differently.  You were my best friend, and all of the memories from my childhood I care to keep are with you and your family. I do not know what I would have done without you. 
> 
> I missed you, Liss, more than words could accurately convey.  I know you are tired of apologies, but I don’t care. I am sorry that I never told you any of this before.  I am sorry that I was so terrified of my father that I let him come between us. I am sorry if I ever once made you think I didn’t care about you.  I am sorry that I waited until the night before I left to dance with you, to kiss you. More than anything else, I am sorry that I wasted nine years of my life pretending that I could be happy without you. 
> 
> It is good to finally see you again. 
> 
> ~~Sincerely~~ Love,
> 
> Nathaniel 

He folded the parchment and and breathed deeply, only then realizing that he’d been holding his breath.  All of his feelings were right there, on one small slip of parchment. It would be as easy as handing it to Liss, or leaving it somewhere for her to find. It would be even easier to ball up the letter and toss it into the fireplace, but then he’d be in the same position as when he started. He decided to do neither, to compromise with himself, and place it in his pack for safe-keeping.  At the very least, it would be a reminder for all he needed to say when he found the courage to tell her in person. He would prefer to tell her in person anyway.

Writing the letters had not taken as long as Nathaniel expected, and since returning to bed would be a fruitless endeavor, he got dressed and decided to get some air.  As he walked out of his room and down the hall he wondered if Lucia had ever found her peace, or if she’d struggled to sleep as well. He doubted she had been successful.  The woman barely slept on the best of days.

He reached the vestibule and images of Liss running toward him flashed behind his eyelids when he blinked.  He could still smell her perfume, her hair, proof that he had not simply imagined her presence. He pushed past the heavy wooden doors that lead out to the courtyard, and the crisp air of early morning.  Stars still hung in the night sky, even as the sun peeked up from the horizon in subtle pink rays. 

Nathaniel stepped out further into the courtyard and past bunches of evergreen plants that stubbornly flourished despite the weather. There was a rustle of something— fabric maybe—, footsteps, and he noticed a person several feet before him, silhouetted by the moons’ light, though he would have recognized Liss anywhere.  She sat on a stone bench, staring up and out into the sky.

He approached her quietly, hoping not to startle her.  She flinched and stood abruptly as he reached the bench, turning swiftly and throwing her whole body into an attempt to punch him.  He noticed her intention, however, and caught her arm just before she hit him. She inhaled sharply, and looked up at him, trembling.  Her eyes were wide, mouth opened as if she were about to scream until she met his gaze and relaxed immediately. He could only imagine why her first instinct was to punch, why she looked so terrified.  He was glad his father was dead.  

“Nate,” she said in acknowledgment, as he released her arm.  “I— I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he assured her firmly, “Its my fault for startling you.  I should know better.”

“Ever since the attack on the castle, I’ve been so jumpy,” she explained as if he’d asked her to, “It’s like my skin is on inside out.”  She laughed nervously, sat back down on the bench, and continued. “I have to stop punching people.”

“To be fair, it’s early.  You can’t have been expecting someone else to be here.” He took a seat beside her. 

“I never expect to be the only person around,” she said, “That’s the problem. It’s always in the back of my mind that someone is waiting to hurt me.”

“I don’t know what to say,” Nathaniel admitted. 

“You don’t have to say anything.” Liss shrugged. “That’s just how I am now.”  She brought her gaze to meet his, and offered him a smile that did not reach her eyes. “Why are you up so early? You always hated waking up early.”

“I still do.  Years of strict schedules while I was a squire did nothing to change my opinion about that.”  He paused and leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “I couldn’t sleep.”

“Warden nightmares?”

He sat back up to shoot her a perplexed expression. How did she know about those? He remembered Alistair and resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “No, thankfully.  I just couldn’t sleep. What about you?”

“Sleep and I don’t have a good relationship these days,” Liss explained, “Every night, without fail, I wake up from nightmares in which I had to relive the night my family died.  It’s hard to go back to sleep after that, so I come here or walk the battlements, anything to get the smell of iron and smoke from my nose, to help me stop seeing my brother’s wife and son lifeless on the floor every time I close my eyes.”

As she spoke, Liss clenched her fists, tighter and tighter with each word, until her knuckles were white.  Tears formed in her eyes, and even in the dim light Nathaniel could tell she fought to hold them back. He still didn’t know what to say to her, especially since she had responded so poorly to his apologies before.  

He chose to say nothing, placing his hand over one of her clenched fists, to show her his sympathy rather than tell her.  She snapped her head toward him and glanced between his hand and his face a few times. A painful, tense moment passed before she opened her hand and laced her fingers through his. 

An unexpected wave of heat rushed to his face, as if they had never held hands before.  They had, in fact, held hands many times, more than he could count, but it had been so long.  Her hands were no longer perfectly soft and delicate. Calluses marked her palms from wielding her sword, and her grip was more firm.  He had expected her to pull away from him, a subtle rejection of his concern and affection, but she didn’t, and now his heart climbed up his throat as if it intended to escape through his mouth. 

“I am sorry that I snapped at you last night when you tried to apologize,” Liss said, breaking the silence and tension between them, “It was just the last thing I wanted to talk to you about.  My trip to Highever was… difficult, and I just— I wanted to think about anything else. I knew the sniveling mess it would make me.”

“I understand,” Nathaniel reassured her, brushing his thumb back and forth across her hand. 

“One moment, I had everything.  I had a home, a family, and I was at least comfortable with who I was and my place in the world.” Tears dropped from her lashes as she spoke, and she squeezed his hand more tightly. “Then everything was taken from me all at once.  I spent an entire year alone and frightened, worried that your father would find me at any moment, that I’d be killed. I am ashamed. I should be stronger than this. Fergus has learned to cope with it, but I can’t.”

Liss lost her composure entirely and began to sob, tears streaming down her face, her shoulders shaking.  It broke his heart to see her this way, and to be powerless to make her feel better. There was nothing he could do, except sit with her as she grieved.  He remembered when his mother died, how Liss had come to his room, and how he’d been inconsolable. He had wanted her to stay then, even though she didn’t know how to help.  It had been good to not have to mourn alone. 

Releasing her hand, he closed the distance between them and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, hugging her close to him.  She brought her tearful eyes up to look at him briefly before throwing her arms around him and pressing her face into his chest. He held her as she shook and sobbed, hands clinging to the fabric of his shirt.  It must have been so difficult for her, to lose everything and pretend to be strong, to hold it all back just to keep going. He wished he could have been there for her sooner, but he was there now, and he would hold her together so that she could fall apart. 

Liss eventually calmed, but did not move from his embrace.  Her breath was warm against his tear-dampened shirt, and as she spoke, the words vibrated on his chest.  “See, this is exactly why I can’t talk about it,” she mumbled.

Nathaniel laughed.  “This is exactly why you need to,” he said, instinctively pressing a kiss to her hair.

Her head shot up at the gesture, and she examined him, eyes relentlessly searching his face for something he could not determine. The sun had risen higher above the horizon, brightening her face with a soft golden glow. It would be inappropriate to tell her she was beautiful now.  She would almost assuredly think he was mocking her, but he thought it. He couldn’t help but think it.  

“What is it,” he asked as she continued to stare at him so intently he wanted to squirm. 

“I...um.” She seemed lost, and glanced around as she searched for an answer.  “Nothing. Never mind.”

“Are you sure?”

“Mhmm!” She laughed nervously despite the confidence she tried to convey, and pulled away from him,  standing up and straightening out her skirt. “I should probably go and get cleaned up. We have a council meeting today, and I would prefer to not look like this.”  She motioned to her face with her hands. 

Liss turned to walk away but froze in her tracks and spun back around to look at him.  “Thank you, Nate,” she said softly, “Talk to you later?”

“Of course.” He nodded and she smiled in return before heading into the palace. 

Perhaps later he would tell her everything.   
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took a lot out of me, and took a while, but better Nate than lever (XD). Thank you all for your patience, and for being such devoted readers! <3


	26. Useless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Starkhaven is the worst. Or is it? Nathaniel recieves some unfortunate postage and has an encounter with an infamous Prince.

**_Starkhaven, 9:24 Dragon_ **

Insulting was not quite strong enough of a word to describe what it was like to be squired at the age of eighteen.  It was a boy’s occupation: carrying shields, saddling horses, tending to armor, and completing whatever menial, and often embarrassing tasks a knight commanded.  Nathaniel could name a thousand things he would rather do than dress and undress that pompous arse, Rodolphe, every bloody morning and every bloody evening. One would think that being a knight would mean that a man was exceptionally well-versed in the daily tasks of living, adept at putting on and removing his own Maker-forsaken armor, but no.  That was a squire’s job, and Nathaniel loathed every single moment of it. 

Starkhaven was a pleasant enough place to live, he supposed, with its glistening streets and architecture that boasted of its immense wealth.  The city, which straddled the Minanter River, spanned the expanse of an entire valley, surrounded at the far edges by towering walls and a mountainous terrain. Nowhere in Ferelden compared in cleanliness or opulence.  Still, Nathaniel found himself missing home. Starkhaven’s climate was too forgiving, with its mild winters and occasional rain showers. There were not enough dogs or fur-lined, grim-faced people. There was no Liss.  

That was his problem, wasn’t it? He should have been thrilled to be out from under Father’s thumb, happy to be in a new country with nice weather and the chance to learn new things. As humiliating as his daily tasks were, it was nothing compared to living at home with Father.  He should have been grateful for his newfound freedom, yet his separation from Liss was still an open, gaping wound that wouldn't heal.

His plan had been to pretend she no longer existed, to throw himself into his training entirely, to meet new people, to forget about her.  It was supposed to be simple, and it would have been, had she not sent that damn letter. She loved him, and it made everything difficult. How dare she say such important things in a letter a year after he needed to hear it?  She complicated everything and he’d chosen to be angry about it, because that was easier than feeling how he actually felt. He had stuffed the letter in the top drawer of his dresser, slammed it shut, and it remained there ever since. 

Nathaniel stood by the dresser, staring at the drawer in question and tracing the brass knob with his fingertips .  Who was he trying to convince, anyway? It wasn’t as if hiding the letter under a pile of socks made him any less aware of its presence.  Every single day, he bit back the urge to read it again, to sit down and write out a response to her. Every day he told himself that it was for the best that he didn’t.  The last thing he wanted was for Liss to waste her time waiting for him to return when he could make no promises that he would. He desperately longed for her to be happy, even if he couldn’t be there to see it.  To write to her, to confess his feelings to her would be a cruel extension of a childish fantasy. They would never be together, and he had to believe that. 

Still, he tugged at the knob, sliding the drawer open so that he could pull out the small envelope with his name on it, written in Liss’ elegant swirls of black ink.  His chest tightened like a vice just looking at it. It tightened again as the door to his room swung open with such force that it slammed against the wall. 

“Howe,” chirped the young man standing in the doorway.  His toothy grin sat on a freckled face, framed by coppery red locks. “What’re you still doing up here, lazy arse.” 

“Kenric! There is this thing called ‘knocking,’” Nathaniel spat, “You should try it some time.”

“It’s my room, too, you know.” 

“I am well aware, Ben,” he sighed, “I listen to you snore every night.” 

Benedict Kenric was the third son of some minor lord in Starkhaven, and he’d been squired at the same time as Nathaniel, despite being four years younger.  They had been roommates since the first day, and he got onto every last one of Nathaniel’s nerves. He was kind, with boundless energy and enthusiasm, but he was nosy and undisciplined.  It was difficult not to slap him from time to time. 

Ben entered the room proudly and closed the door, leaning against the wall next to the dresser as he glanced between Nathaniel’s face and the letter in his hand. 

“Don’t,” Nathaniel warned, returning the letter to the drawer and shutting it forcefully, “I know what you are going to say, and… just don’t.” 

“What?  You mean you can’t handle a little prodding about that Fereldan lass of yours?”  Ben’s grin spread more widely across his face. “She must be something else, huh?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he said, words clipped. 

“Well, if you don’t want to talk about it, then I’m sure you wouldn’t be interested in this,” Ben drawled sarcastically, pulling a small envelope from his coat and waving it in front of Nathaniel’s face. It was difficult to make out what the writing said due to all of the movement, but he would recognize Liss’ handwriting anywhere. 

 Nathaniel snatched the envelope from Ben’s hands so that he could see it more clearly.  It was addressed to him, and his pulse jumped. She’d written to him again, even though he had not replied.  

“Where did you get this?”

“Came with a bird this morning,” Ben answered, lifting his shoulders into an awkward shrug, “Ravenmaster told me to give it to you.” 

“Oh.  Right.” He looked down to the envelope in his hand and then back up to the copper-haired boy in front of him.  “Thank you.” 

“Don’t mention it, Nate,” Ben said without an ounce of resentment for the way Nathaniel had been speaking to him.  He motioned to the door with his thumb. “I’ll leave you to it.” 

“Yes.” Nathaniel nodded, eyes fixed on the letter in his hand as he moved to sit down on the edge of his bed. “I will see you at the sparring ring in a bit.” 

“Don’t take too long.  You know how Rodolphe gets about punctuality.” 

“Rodolphe can bite me,” Nathaniel muttered under his breath, flinching when the other boy cackled. “Don’t tell him I said that.” 

“You have my word,” Ben said, placing his hand over his heart solemnly before exiting the room, closing the door behind him. 

It wasn’t until Nathaniel attempted to open the letter that he realized his hands were shaking.  His heart pounded behind his ears and he fought stubbornly to keep the tears that welled in his eyes from falling.  Andraste’s blood, he needed to hold it together. Breaking the wax seal that bore the letter “C” surrounded by a wreath of laurel branches, he pulled out the folded piece of parchment inside. 

 

 

> _Dear Nate,_
> 
> _I hope this letter finds you happy and well in Starkhaven.  If I am honest, I was rather shocked and disappointed that you never responded to my last letter.  Papa tells me that you are probably just too busy to write. Fergus says that you are being, to use his exact words, “a little shit head.”  I am not certain how to feel about it. After speaking to Delilah, who has also not heard from you since you left, I decided that I am — at the very least— worried about you._
> 
> _I understand if you chose not to answer me because of the things I said the last time I wrote.  It was a lot, and after I sent it off, I immediately regretted it. Nothing has changed about how I feel, but I shouldn’t have told you in writing.  You deserve to hear those words in person. You know me: impatient and thoughtless as ever. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable._
> 
> _What I don’t understand is you not writing to your sister.  She and your brother are alone with your father now, and Tom isn’t handling it well.  Delilah is worried about him, and you, and you should really write to her. She misses you._
> 
> _My family and I miss you, too.  It is wild, but last year when I wrote to you, Fergus and Oriana were just getting married, and now they have a baby.  I have a nephew! His name is Oren, and Nate, he is the most adorable little baby in the entire world. (Thankfully, he took after Oriana, so everyone is thrilled about that.)  You should have seen Fergus. He was a blubbering mess. He is going to be such a good father, I can tell. As for Aunt Liss? Well, I intend to spoil little Oren until he is completely rotten._
> 
> _I wish you could meet him._
> 
> _Your father has been insufferable since you left.  Any chance he has to make it known that Bryce Cousland’s “little spitfire,” is still “unattached,” he takes it.  If I ever once implied that I wanted Rendon Howe to be my personal matchmaker, I take it back. I swear to the Maker, I take it back.  I’m sure you don’t find this as hilarious as I do, but just know, I’m laughing for the both of us._
> 
> _You also won’t find this funny either, but since you haven’t spoken with anyone back here in Ferelden, I feel like I need to tell you:  Ever since we danced at Fergus’ engagement festival, rumors have been spreading like the Blight. Did you know that my parents have been hiding my secret, illegitimate pregnancy with your bastard child?  That’s why you were sent away, and I’m not seeing any suitors. That’s one of the tame ones! At first I was bothered by them all, but I’ve started to use them as jokes at parties. Made King Maric snort wine out his nose with one of them._
> 
> _Anyway, look at me rambling.  I have so many things tucked away in my head to say, so many things I want to tell you.  I miss our talks. I miss holding your hand. I am jealous of Starkhaven for getting to be near you. ~~Maker, I’m being such a sap. I know. I’m sorry.~~ _
> 
> _I still love you.  One ignored letter changes nothing.  If you want me to stop, you’ll have to write and tell me so._
> 
> _Love,_ _  
> _ _Liss_

Tears dropped from Nathaniel’s eyes and onto the parchment, and he reached up to wipe them away with his sleeve. Damn Liss and her letters that tore down every last inch of the wall he’d been building over the past two years. Though he knew she did not mean it, each of her words was a twisted knife into an already open wound, reminding him that it was, in fact, still there. 

Frustrated with himself, he folded the letter, stuffed it back into its envelope, and tossed it into the dresser with the other letter.  He slammed the drawer shut, grabbed his archery gear, and headed outside to the range. He still had an hour before his actual training began, and he needed to clear his head in the best way he knew how.  The only way he knew how. 

Archery required a high degree of concentration and bodily awareness, things which made it an ideal distraction from any sort of stress or emotional turmoil.  It was impossible to hurt so deeply while he minded his posture and attempted to gain control over his breath, as he noted the force and direction of the wind, and as he nocked and released arrow after arrow.  After so many years of practice, the motions came as naturally as breathing. If he closed his eyes, he could almost convince himself he was back at home.

Something flying past his face snapped him back to Starhaven, just in time to see an arrow split one of his own arrows in half, and sink into the target.  Nathaniel snapped his head in the direction from which the projectile came. A young man, around his age, stood several feet behind him wearing a smug smile across his face.  He had dark skin and dark hair that sat in direct contrast to his bright, piercing blue eyes. His armor, his bow, everything was gilded, and it was no stretch to assume that Nathaniel was looking at one of the Vael princes. 

“You are a skilled archer,” the prince said genially, taking several steps toward Nathaniel. 

“Not as skilled as you, Your Highness,” Nathaniel mumbled dispassionately, attempting to hide his annoyance over the ruined arrow. 

“Ah, so you know who I am, then?”  To his credit, the man looked genuinely surprised. “What gave me away?”

“The gold.” Nathaniel remarked.  _And the arrogance._ He wouldn’t say such things allowed, but every royal person he’d ever met held some degree of arrogance in their posture, the way they spoke. It was unintentional, and likely the result of being worshipped from the time they were born. Still, it grated on Nathaniel’s nerves.

The prince laughed, and extended a hand to Nathaniel. An odd gesture for royalty, but Nathaniel shook it nonetheless. “It appears I am at a disadvantage.  I am Sebastian Vael, youngest prince of Starkhaven, and an eternal thorn in my father’s side. Who are you?”

“I am Nathaniel,” he replied, his own name like cotton in his mouth, “Howe.” 

“You are the Howe that was squired a year ago,” Sebastian asked, raising his eyebrows, “I have to say, I was expecting someone less... competent.” 

“How do you know I’m not,” Nathaniel joked. 

“Incompetent noble sons do not carry themselves as you do,” Sebastian explained, a sad smile quirking up at the corners of his mouth as his eyes seemed to focus on something off in the distance. He shook his head and brought his gaze back to meet Nathaniel’s.  “Not to mention, you are damn good with a bow. Did I see you shooting with both hands?”

“I… yes,” he spluttered, “Thank you.” 

“I haven’t been able to do that no matter how hard I try.  Impressive.” 

An awkward silence filled the air between them before Nathaniel dared to speak again.  “Pardon my frankness, but you are an unusual prince.” 

Another laugh.  “‘Unusual’ is a kind way to put it.  I am usually referred to as self-indulgent, shallow, vain, lecherous, unrefined, ill-mannered, and so on.  My father’s personal favorite is ‘useless.’”

The sting of the prince’s relatable words caught Nathaniel off guard, and he flinched before snorting out a laugh.  “My father likes that one, too.” 

Sebastian’s face fell into a somber expression. “I would rather be useless than be what my father wishes me to be.”  

Though he had never thought about it before, Nathaniel felt the same.  Why had he worked so hard to earn his father’s respect, when he did not want to be what his father found respectable.  He would rather be himself, his father be damned. 

“Anyway,” Sebastian said, clapping Nathaniel on the shoulder, “I have to go.  Some boring something with some Revered Mother. It was nice to meet you, Nathaniel.  We should speak again sometime. We could get a pint and complain about our fathers some more, yes?”

Nathaniel smiled and nodded. “I would like that, Your Highness.” 

“Please, none of that,” the other man said as he walked away, “Just call me Sebastian. It’s more fitting.” 

Nathaniel watched as Sebastian sauntered away, gait still so proud despite his talk.  He found himself a bit enamored with the prince, or at least the idea of him. He was attractive, certainly, and it was rare to find someone with whom he had so much in common.  It was even rarer to meet someone who understood his complaints with his father. He shook his head. No. A deep breath. He was just sad, lonely, frustrated even. He would not cover up his heartache with ridiculous infatuation.  Besides, he could not even be sure that _Sebastian_ would be open to the idea of being with another man. 

Maker. What was wrong with him? This was completely out of character, wasn’t it?  Or had it simply been hidden behind his dedication to Liss for so long that he had never experienced what it was like to be attracted to someone else?  Did this mean he was getting better? He certainly hoped so. He could not continue on forever with a seeping hole in his chest. He was nowhere near ready to pursue anything with anyone, let alone a prince, but at least he had some idea that it might be possible. 

He walked forward to the target and removed the arrows, including Sebastians, which he placed in his quiver.  A voice rang out behind him, causing his back to stiffen. 

“I see you finally met Prince Sebastian.” It was Rodolphe’s booming voice that called out. “Poor lad.  He’s been handed everything he’s ever wanted from the moment he was born, and he’s thrown it all back in his parents’ faces.” 

Nathaniel cleared his throat and turned to face Rodolphe. “He seems like a good man, Ser.” 

“He is,” Rodolphe admitted, with a touch of affection in his voice, “ I just wish he’d act like it.  He is going to get himself into a situation he will not be able to weasel out of.” 

He’d never heard the knight be so open and it was clear he cared for Sebastian, so he pressed for more information. “Like what, Ser?”

“The boy has slept with half of Starkhaven.  He’s a deviant.” 

“Sounds like he knows how to have a good time.”

“Don’t get any ideas, Nathaniel,” Rodolphe scolded, unable to sense the sarcasm behind Nathaniel’s words, “Your honor is mine.” 

“I shall endeavor not to besmirch it, Ser.” 

There was a pause as Rodolphe shook the smile from his face, clearly bothered by the lapse of his stern, pompous exterior.  It was good to see that he had a softer side to him. He looked down at Nathaniel’s bow and then out to the target. 

“I know that you favor ranged weapons, but bows are useless in melee combat,” he stated, grasping for something to criticize, “So they are useless for a knight.” 

“Not necessarily,” Nathaniel replied, pulling Sebastian’s arrow from the quiver, nocking, and releasing. 

“Oh?”

Nathaniel shot another arrow, more rapidly than the first.  “You just have to be faster than your opponent.” 

“And if you are not?”

Nathaniel’s lips quirked up into a grin as he aimed his arrow precisely, releasing it so that it split the prince’s arrow in half, before turning and facing Rodolphe.  “Well, Ser, a bow works as well as any other blunt object if you swing it hard enough.” 

Rodolphe appeared to stifle a chuckle, raising his eyebrows instead.  “That mouth of yours is going to get you into trouble.” 

Drawing his shoulders up into a shrug, Nathniel said, “If I am going to get into trouble, I would rather it be for speaking my mind, than for nothing at all.” 

Rodolphe met his gaze and nodded knowingly.  Perhaps he was not such a pompous arse after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Major shoutout to Katie (gingerbreton), for helping me with the descriptions of Starkhaven. I bow to her imagery wisdom, and could not have done this chapter justice without her.


	27. Somewhere to Belong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything has changed since Nathaniel and Lucia arrived, and Liss struggles to find her place.

**_Denerim, 9:31 Dragon_ **

There was nothing Liss wanted less than to be sitting in Queen Anora’s council chamber, listening to Arl Eamon complain about and question any and every decision Anora made.  Was it not past time that he headed back to Redcliffe where he could firmly plant his head up his own arse without bothering anyone else. He certainly had a lot to prove for someone already in such a position of power.  Papa had always told her that truly powerful people had little to prove. It was why King Maric had been so beloved, an example her father had apparently strived to follow. She wished he’d been there now, to tell the puffy Arl to watch how he speaks to the Queen of Ferelden. It was all she could do to keep herself from saying as much. 

The lack of sleep the night before had not helped her irritation.  Nightmares had tormented her all night and sleep eluded her. Of course, now that it was the middle of the morning, and she was surrounded by a dozen important people, she could hardly keep her eyes open.  There was a gentle jab to her side, jolting her to alertness and she snapped her head in the direction of the touch. 

Alistair quirked an eyebrow and flashed a mischievous smile at her before mouthing “You’re welcome,” and turning his attention back to Anora. 

“Lady Cousland, what do you think of Anora’s unflinching support for the Grey Wardens, even in light of their callous abandonment of the people of Amaranthine?” A smug smile formed on his lips, barely visible beneath his beard.

Liss snorted in disbelief. “I trust _Queen_ Anora’s decision, my lord, and I find it interesting that you were such a staunch ally of the Warden-Commander just months ago.”

“The Arling of Amaranthine is under the protection of an Arlessa, a mage, who cares little for its people.”

“I am certain she cares much more for the people of Amaranthine than it’s previous leadership,” Liss replied politely, letting all of the bitterness seep into her smile, “Some of us do not have the luxury of forgetting about Rendon Howe so soon.”

Arl Eamon chuckled humorlessly. “And now the Warden-Commander conspires with his son.  Are you so certain you wish to defend her now?”

Liss’ fists tightened in her lap. It wasn’t like that. Nate was not like his father. He hadn’t even chosen the Wardens voluntarily.  Eamon’s accusation was completely unfair and she opened her mouth to defend him, but Alistair spoke first. 

“I’m sorry, but I missed the part where any of this is relevant,” he snapped, throwing a stack of papers on the table,  and Liss released the breath she’d been holding, “All of the reports from different sources , including the Captain of the Guard in Amaranthine, several minor Banns, all of the Grey Wardens present, oh, and some civilians who fled Amaranthine prior to the siege say the same thing: The city was beyond saving. I’m curious to hear your argument as to why needless loss of the few Wardens we have left would have been a better solution.”

The room fell silent as Eamon appeared to search for anything to say in response, but settled upon an exasperated sigh. 

“I have spoken with the Warden-Commander about the situation in Amaranthine, and I am confident that her decision was sound,” Anora announced, voice like a bell that rang through the muffled conversation of the council members, “I believe that it is in the best interest of both Amaranthine and Ferelden for the arling to remain under the protection of the Grey Wardens.”

Anora turned to meet Alistair’s gaze, nodding faintly. “With one condition,” she continued, “The Wardens are charged with rebuilding the City of Amaranthine, returning survivors to their homes, and making what reparations are possible.”

“Yes, of course, Your Majesty,” Alistair answered with a confident nod. 

Anora turned to Arl Eamon, smiling gently as she spoke. “I understand and appreciate your concerns, Eamon, but my support for the Wardens still stands.”

“Understood, Your Majesty.”

“If there are no further matters to discuss, then we are adjourned.”  The Queen paused for a few moments, and when nothing else was mentioned, she left the hall, followed soon after by the other council members.  Liss remained in her seat, staring blankly at the surface of the table before her, the shuffling and footsteps receding into the distance and the echoes of the debate still ringing in her head. Her heart still pounded at the memory, and she flopped her head down on the table.  

The sound of movement beside her and the warmth of a body next to her on the bench startled her, and she shot her head up to see Alistair smiling at her. The smile did nothing to mask the exhaustion in his eyes, nor his concern. 

“Hey,” he said sheepishly, looking everywhere in the room except her face. 

“Hey,” she answered, unable to prevent an amused smile from crawling across her face, “Looks like you want to have another awkward conversation.  I love those.”

“Only the best conversations feel like pulling teeth, don’t you know?” He laughed quietly and sighed.  “I just wanted to check on you… actually.” 

“Why? Do I look that rough?”  She was only half-joking. 

“You look like you didn’t get any more sleep than I did.” 

“I probably didn’t,” she admitted, but noticed the guilt that washed over Alistair’s face, and continued.  “Don’t worry, Ali. It wasn’t on your account or anything. Just normal old nightmares.” 

“Right.  Good.” Alistair nodded, but his brows were still pressed together.  “Er, not good that you have nightmares, just good that it wasn’t because of… what happened between us, and the whole… thing last night.” 

“We talked about what happened, remember? It’s behind us.” 

“Maybe,” he said with a shrug, “Unfortunately, it’s not behind Lucia.” 

“Oh, right.”  She tilted her head and frowned.  “I’m sure she despises me.” 

To her surprise, a small grin quirked up at the corner of his mouth and he shook his head.  “Luce isn’t like that.”

Liss perked up.  “Yeah?”

“Don’t get me wrong, she’s angry and hurt, but she was angry and hurt when she left.” Alistair shook his leg to the point that it rattled the table, “I think she blames herself more than anything.”

“So you don’t think she’ll be setting me on fire any time soon?”

“No,” Alistair laughed, “Me, maybe, but not you.”

“Do you think you two will…” she trailed off, realizing that the question was intrusive. 

“Work it out,” Alistair asked, as if reading her mind. When she nodded he took a deep breath and continued. “If you had asked me earlier, I would have said I didn’t know, but she’s here now, and… I believe in her.  We want the same thing. I guess we’ll just have to figure out how to get there together”

“That’s wonderful,” Liss remarked, reaching over to squeeze his shoulder

They sat in comfortable silence for several moments before Alistair spoke again.  “I am sorry about what Eamon said.”

“Don’t be. He’s full of hot air, mostly.  He is making wild accusations to find any sort of solid ground to stand on.  I trust the Grey Wardens.”

“Even with a Howe among our ranks?” Alistair’s question was sincere as could be, and Liss felt horrible for the inappropriate laughter that bubbled up from her throat as a response. 

“What? What’s so funny?”

“Especially with a Howe among your ranks,” Liss answered, and Alistair furrowed his brows, “That Warden that arrived with Lucia last night…”  
  
“That’s him,” Alistair asked, recoiling a bit and blinking at her, “The one you _embraced_.”

“Yes.” Liss’ face grew hot as she watched him tie divergent shreds of information together, realizing that which she already knew. 

“The son of a traitor?” Alistair gasped in feigned surprise, and then clicked his tongue, “The scandal, Lady Elissa.  Can’t you see me? I’m scandalized.” 

“Stop it,” Liss laughed through her embarrassment, jabbing Alistair with an elbow. “It’s not like that.” 

“Huh, that’s funny because I seem to recall a conversation on the road the other day.”  He tapped his chin with his finger. “Something about it being hard to move on from someone special?  Not really being you without that person? Is that ringing any bells?” 

Cut it out, Alistair.” 

“You _love_ him.”

Liss did not respond, just narrowed her eyes and glared at him.  Her heart pounded against her chest as if it intended to burst out and run away.  She shouldn’t have been so affected by Alistair’s teasing. It was nothing she did not already know, nothing Fergus hadn’t already teased her about.  Still, to hear it all out loud, to know that Nate was in the same city, made it more potent.

“Fine, fine,” Alistair remarked, throwing his hands up in surrender, “I’ll leave you be.” 

“Thank you,” she answered curtly.  
  
“I just hope you’re going to do something about it.”  His tone was gentle, compassionate, and he was no longer teasing her.  “I’m probably the worst person to give advice on things like this, but it just seems like it’s too important to ignore.”  

“Thank yo—” she began, but paused as she glimpsed a figure at the far end of the room near the door.  Her arms were crossed, observing, and as she noticed Liss’ attention on her, a small, confusing smile twitched at her lips. 

“What’s wrong,” Alistair said, and then turned to look in the direction Liss was looking.  “Oh. Hi love.” He hopped up quickly, nearly stumbling over the bench and rushed to the woman eagerly.  There was no dread or apprehension on his face that Liss could see, and Lucia’s whole face brightened at his attention, the smile she’d offered Liss widening on her face, eyes sparkling.  She was beautiful enough on her own, but the way she looked at Alistair made her even more so. Alistair turned and waved to Liss, and he was beaming. She returned the wave and he disappeared down the hallway with Lucia. Good for him.  She was so relieved she hadn’t cost him the love of his life with her erratic behavior. 

Warm sunlight cut through the chill of early afternoon, the first signs that spring would soon arrive, as Liss made her way through the busy Market District.  She hadn’t spoken with Bria since she left for Highever, and she thought her friend would enjoy hearing everything that had transpired since. Not to mention, Liss could stand to vent to an unbiased, uninvolved party, and Bri was the perfect person. 

She pushed open the heavy wooden door entered the smithy, and closed the door behind her.  As she turned to look in the direction of the counter, she froze, an uncertain statue at the sight of Nate standing there, laughing as he spoke.  He pulled a small envelope from his coat and slid it across the table to Bri, who picked it up, read the writing on the front, and nodded solemnly before sticking it into one of the pockets on her apron.  It was then that she looked up and her eyes locked with Liss, a perfectly white grin taking over her whole face.  

Appearing to be confused by her smile, Nate frowned and then brought his eyes up so that he saw Liss as well.  He flinched and straightened his posture, clearing his throat and raking a hand through his hair. Good. It seemed that it wasn’t just she who was having a difficult time remembering that they were in the same place now.  It had been many years since butterflies had taken up residence in her stomach, but Maker if they weren’t there now. Thankfully the forge was hot, and gave her an excuse to be sweating.  

“Good afternoon, Lady Elissa,” Bri piped up cheerfully, cutting through the tension that hung heavy in the room, “It has been too many days since that pretty face of yours graced my shop.” 

“Afternoon Bri,” Liss replied, prying her eyes away from Nate, who was incredibly distracting with that smirk of his.  What reason did he have to be smirking anyway? 

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” Bri leaned forward, resting her elbows on the counter. 

“Nothing, really.  Just came by to catch up.” Liss paused and glanced at Nate.  “But if you are busy…” 

“I am on my way out,” Nate said, voice soft and low as he met her gaze, “I do not wish to deter your conversation, my lady.” 

Liss fought the urge to groan and sigh audibly.  How completely sincere and formal of him. “Thank you, Warden,” she replied pointedly and Nate chuckled as he walked past her and out of the shop. 

When Liss turned to face Bria once again, the woman eyed her knowingly, smiling like a mabari that had just chewed up someone’s boots and wasn’t even sorry.  Liss offered her a scowl. “What? Why are you looking at me like that? “

“Either you have slept with that man, or you need to,” Bria remarked, completely unabashed. 

“W-what,” Liss spluttered, completely taken aback by the observation, “Why would you think that?”

“I could have cut the tension with a dull blade,” Bria teased, picking up a dagger from  the counter and pretending to slice the air with it.

“Just the last time I was here, you were prodding me to pursue Alistair.” Liss squinted her eyes. “Have you no shame?”

“Not a drop,” Bria teased and burst out into laughter. 

“Great.  Good to know,” Liss spat dryly. “I will have you know that I was right about Alistair.” 

“In what way?”  Bria took the dagger she’d been holding, and approached the forge.

“We had a… moment on our trip to Highever.  We shouldn’t have. The woman he loves has returned, and now there is a big mess.” 

“Oh.” 

“Yeah.” Liss crossed her arms and frowned. She continued on, attempting to imitate Bria, “‘In Antiva when we love someone, we tell them so.’  Remind me not to take your advice ever again.”  

“My apologies, my dear,” Bria said with a laugh.

“We’re not friends anymore.”

“Yes we are.”

“Of course we are,” Liss sighed and laughed. “I am just frustrated.” 

Bria opened her mouth to speak, but Liss interrupted, knowing exactly what she intended to say.  
  
“Not that kind of frustrated, Bri,” she said,” I have no intention of sleeping with anyone any time soon.”

“Such a shame.”

“I know. I am a disappointment.”  Liss laughed, and moved away from the counter.  “Well, I should probably stop distracting you from your work.”   
  
“You are always a welcome distraction, my friend.” Bria smiled again and Liss waved, and headed out of the smithy.

The air outside seemed much colder after standing in the warmth of Bria’s shop.  Wind smacked against her face, prickling her lungs as she inhaled. At least she wasn’t sweating anymore. She jumped as she turned to her left and found Nate leaning against smithy’s exterior, arms crossed.  He stared out into the center of the market, somber expression on his face as he watched a man lift a small boy up onto his shoulders. A beautiful young woman looped her arm through the man’s and stared up lovingly at the boy. 

“They remind me of my parents,” Liss stated as she moved to stand beside him,. “Fergus and Oriana, too.” 

Nate glanced at her and then closed his eyes.  “I thought the same, actually. I was just remembering the night when Father first brought me to Highever.” 

“I was hiding under your bed,” she added, warmth bubbling in her chest as she recalled the memory.

“I worried at first that you were some sort of hideous beast,” he explained, laughter punctuating his words, “It turned out that you were just a girl, with these giant brown eyes, and the loveliest smile I’d ever seen. After that, I thought it was impossible for you to be frightening.” 

Liss’ heart fluttered at each word.  “Boy did I have you fooled.” 

“That… is an understatement,” he laughed again, “Anyway, I remember that your father came looking for you.  You swore me to silence, and then crawled back under the bed. When your father showed up, I was so scared of getting you into trouble.  All I could think about was how my father handled disobedience.”

“Nate…”

“Your father was nothing like mine.  He made a game out of it, and scooped you out from under the bed to carry you to your room.”  He shifted his weight and looked back out at the family they’d been watching. “Before that moment, I spent my days thinking that I was flawed, that I was just a horrible son.  Your family made me realize that maybe I was not the problem.” 

“They loved you,” Liss said softly, tears welling in her eyes, “My parents thought the world of you.  I think they’d want you to know that.”

She looked up at Nate, and swore she saw a tear roll down his cheek.  He looked down at the space between them, at their fingertips that almost touched, and took her hand in his.  He brought his eyes back up to hers, as if to ask if the gesture was welcome. She gave him a reassuring smile, and laced her fingers through his, squeezing tightly. 

“I loved them too,” Nate admitted, voice raw with emotion, “When I say that I am sorry for what Father did, it is for more reasons than one.” 

“I know, and I am sorry that I was so unreceptive to it yesterday.  Of course you are hurt by all of this too.”  

“It’s alright.  Really.” 

They stood, hand in hand, and watched the market, until Liss could take the silence no longer.  “I didn’t know you knew Bria.” 

“I didn’t until today,” he replied with a shrug, “We have a mutual friend. She’s going to deliver a letter for me.”

“Huh,” Liss huffed before she could stop herself, releasing his hand. 

He blinked a few times and tilted his head.  “What?”

“Oh, nothing,” she replied, biting into her words, “It’s just… you _do_ know how to write.”

Nate’s breath hitched audibly in his throat and he frowned, eyebrows furrowing deeply on his forehead. “About that… listen, I—“

Immediately guilty she interrupted him with a laugh and, “It was a joke, Nate. You don’t have to—“

Before she could finish he had moved to stand directly in front of her and placed his hands on her shoulders. Damn it.  He knew better. Of course he did. 

“You and I both know that wasn’t a joke,” he asserted, voice still soft despite its edge.  He was so forward and certain. A strand of black hair fell down into his face as he spoke  

Instinctively, she reached up and tucked the hair back behind his ear, cursing herself although she made no effort to keep her fingertips from lingering against his cheek. “And you and I both know that this is not a conversation we should have in the middle of a crowded market.”

“Right. I…” Nate trailed off, gaze shifting between her eyes and her lips and she should not have wanted him to kiss her so badly, considering the context, but she did.  There was little else she wanted more. He sighed and pulled away from her, too soon, releasing her shoulders and scratching the back of his head. “You are right, of course.”

“I want to hear what you have to say, though.”  She placed a hand on his arm to get his attention, and then tilted her head in the direction of the castle. When Nate smiled and nodded, she looped her arm through his.  “Lead the way.” 

The silence between them as they walked to the castle was unbearable, and Liss found herself scrambling for anything to talk about.

“When will you be leaving Denerim,” Liss settled on asking.

“Soon,” Nate sighed, eyes remaining locked in front of him, “ A day or so most likely, though it really depends on what Lucia decides.  There are so few Wardens left, we’re all needed to help in restoring the region. I’ve made personal promises to Amaranthine City, to see it repaired. “

“You will be delighted to know that is exactly what Queen Anora charged the Wardens to do in our meeting this morning.” Liss laughed.  “Arl Eamon wishes the Warden-Commander to be stripped of her title as Arlessa.”  
  
“Ridiculous.  Lucia did everything she could,” Nate protested, “Amaranthine was lost.” 

“That is what Alistair explained,” Liss reassured him, “Your name was mentioned.  The Wardens are now conspiring with the son of the traitorous Rendon Howe.” 

Nate groaned and rolled his eyes.  “The Wardens gave me a chance to do better than my father.  They are my family now, and my loyalty lies with them.” 

“I am glad you found somewhere to belong again.” Though Liss would not tell him as much, she was envious.

“So am I,” Nate said with a decisive nod of the head. 

Liss chest tightened and her pulse jumped as they reached the castle’s courtyard, anticipation for a discussion with Nathaniel that was nine years overdue building inside her.  Would he apologize for not writing? Give her some completely understandable reason why he ignored her letters? Perhaps he would finally tell her he loved her. Maybe they’d kiss.  Maybe they’d do more than kiss. She’d certainly be open to the idea. After all, Bria hadn’t been wrong. Liss was just too proud to admit that it was something she wanted. 

She shook her head, hoping to regain her hold over her own thoughts, which had completely run away from her.  She only hoped that she was not blushing. Nate opened one of the doors for her, smiling as she entered into the warmth of the castle walls. 

“Warden Nathaniel,” a young woman’s voice called from across the hall as Nate entered behind her, allowing the door to swing closed. 

“Yes?”

“Her Majesty wishes to speak with you, ser.”  
  
Damn it.   To his credit, Nate looked just as frustrated as Liss felt.  

“Did Queen Anora say what she wished to speak with me about?”

“Amaranthine, ser.” The woman looked between Nate and Liss and added. “She is in her study as soon as you are ready.” 

“Thank you,” he said politely, and the servant walked away. 

Nate moved to stand squarely in front of Liss reaching out to take both of her hands in his.  His eyes burned with everything he wanted to say. Everything she wanted to hear.  

“Later,” he stated, “I promise.”  GIving her hands a final squeeze, he released them and headed toward the stairs that led to Anora’s study.  Liss had never been more annoyed by the queen, a thought she’d be happy to keep to herself. 

Determined not to waste her time counting the minutes that passed by until Nate was free to talk, Liss headed to her quarters.  As the excitement of the morning and afternoon wore off, her tired, sleep-deprived body ached for rest, and she could think of no better way to bide her time than to give her body what it needed.  

She flopped down face first onto the large bed she’d called her own for the past few months, not even bothering to remove her shoes, or climb under the coverlet.  Of all the times she would have expected thoughts to overwhelm her, to prod her awake, it would have been at this moment, and yet they didn’t. Sleep embraced her warmly, and she was grateful. 

She awoke later to a knock at the door, completely disoriented, and unsure how long she’d even been sleeping.  Still, she knew the knock had to be Nate, returning to continue their conversation from the market. She stood, smoothed her hair to make sure she did not look entirely disheveled, and rushed to open the door. 

She was greeted by dark hair and a set of pale blue eyes— the _wrong_ dark hair and blue eyes— and it took her what felt like an eternity to address the woman that stood before her. 

“Warden...Commander?”  She rubbed her eyes and blinked to make certain she had seen correctly.  No. It was definitely still Lucia.  

“Sorry if I disturbed you,” Lucia said, her voice quite low, with a subtle rasp at the edges of her words.  It was not what she’d expected the Hero of Ferelden to sound like. “I was wondering if we could talk.” 

“You aren’t disturbing me,” Liss replied, opening the door wider so that Lucia could step inside, “And yes.  Of course.” 

She motioned for the other woman to sit down in one of the reading chairs that sat in the corner of the room.  She did so and Liss followed suit, sitting down hesitantly in the chair next to her. It was oppressively quiet for much longer than Liss would have preferred as Lucia wrang her hands and stared off at nothing. 

“I wanted to apologize for everything,” the woman finally spoke, her piercing eyes shooting directly through Liss, who was too intimidated to even attempt to tell her that she hated being called by her full name. “I can’t imagine you intended to get caught in the middle of all of this.” 

“You don’t have to apologize to me,” Liss argued, laughing humorlessly as she did so, “I am a big girl, and I made my own horrible decisions.  Besides, I don’t feel caught in the middle of anything.”

“You don’t?”

“Not even a little,” Liss explained, “Alistair loves you so much.  I couldn’t compete, even if I wanted to, and I don’t. What happened between us was a thoughtless, impulsive, example of coping gone wrong.  He is my friend, and I prefer to keep him that way.” 

“That is… good to hear,” Lucia remarked with a soft smile, “I hated the thought that you might be uncomfortable.”

“You have to be one of the most forgiving people in Thedas.” 

“I don’t much care for the options left to me if I chose not to forgive Alistair, or you,” the woman explained, a soft smile twitching on her lips, “Nathaniel tells me that I have a right to be angry, and so I am letting myself be angry, but I refuse to hold a grudge.   I am not so innocent in all of this, anyway. For what it’s worth, I am glad you were there for Alistair when I wasn’t.” 

“Seriously?”  
  
“I felt so guilty for leaving him alone.  I am glad that was not the case.” 

“You are welcome… I think.” 

There was a long heavy pause, and Liss wondered if Lucia was at just as much of a loss for words as she was.  Just when she thought she could bear it no longer, Lucia spoke again. 

“Nathaniel speaks highly of you.”  

“He better,” Liss quipped, and smiled at the woman next to her.  To her surprise, Lucia laughed, seeming to appreciate the joke. 

“Anyway.”  Lucia pushed up from her chair, so that she was standing, “I should probably get back to preparing for the return to Amaranthine.  We have a city to rebuild. Thank you for speaking with me.” 

“Thank you for the same.”  

The Warden-Commander nodded, and turned to leave the room, and Liss called after her urgently.  “Wait.” 

Spinning around abruptly, Lucia looked at Liss from beneath furrowed brows.  “Something the matter?”

“It is my understanding that there are only a handful of Wardens in Ferelden?”

“There are seven,” Lucia replied with a bitter laugh, “Including myself and Alistair. Why?

“I want to join.” 

Lucia returned to sit in the chair where she’d been before, eyes burning into Liss’ face. “Becoming a Grey Warden is not something to take lightly.  Once you join, there is no turning back.”  
  
“When I was a child, Duncan visited Highever on a number of occasions looking for recruits.  I always asked him and my father if I could join some day. They always answered with some variation of what you just said.  It didn’t change my mind. 

“I wasn’t able to go with Duncan, even when I was old enough that I could have.  For all my parents valued my independence, they still coddled me, expected me to be a lady who just happened to know how to fight.  My life has changed. My role doesn’t matter anymore. This is my chance.” 

Lucia drew in a shaky breath, clearly weighing the decision internally.  “Very well,” she finally said, “It would be an honor to have you among our ranks.”


	28. Broadswords and Birthdays

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Liss celebrates a solemn eighteenth birthday with a dog, a duel, and her whole family.

_**Highever, 9:25 Dragon** _

> _ Dear Nate, _
> 
> _ I feel like such a little fool for writing a third letter after the first two have gone unanswered.  Maybe I am. Maybe I’ve always been ridiculous for thinking that you cared about me. Maybe I fooled myself.  It is so very in character for me to run away with my imagination, after all.  _
> 
> _ I keep telling myself that this is just you doing that irritating thing you do where you shut down instead of feel things. When you were here, it was so easy to snap you out of it. I could knock on your door until the knocking was more annoying than the feelings.  I could send Fergus to tease you out of your head. I could see your face, see in your eyes that you didn’t actually hate me. You were just sad. _
> 
> _ It’s harder to do that without you here.  I can’t tell if you’re annoyed with me or relieved that I am still bothering to care, even though you’re being an absolute arse, and I would be completely justified for hating you, tossing down my pen, and forgetting you ever existed.  At this point, I kind of wish I could. It would hurt less, at least. _
> 
> _ Maybe you’ve found someone else.  If that’s the case, I’m glad. I’m happy that one of us has the ability to move on. Please feel free to forget I ever said anything about being in love with you. I’d be content with just having my friend back.  _
> 
> _ I guess that’s what hurts the most. I spent my whole childhood with you by my side. You were the person who I ran to whenever I was hurt or upset, the person I told all of my silly stories to, the person I trusted with all my secrets.  I also spent a lot of time being there for you. I dealt with your cold shoulder when your father was around. I dealt with your moodiness. I dealt with all of it because that’s what best friends do.  _
> 
> _ Maker, Nate, I’m not asking you to marry me.  I am asking you to be my best friend again. Please. _
> 
> _ Love, _
> 
> _ Liss _
> 
> _ P.S. Fergus says hello.  He also says that if he ever sees you again he is going to hug you first, then kick your arse.  I told him he’d have to beat me to it. _

Liss folded the parchment, slid it into an envelope, and sealed it with a wax stamp that bore her family crest, a ritual she completed each year in the hope that it would summon her friend’s head out of his own arse.  Alas, she wasn’t a mage, and her letters would go unanswered, as Nate forgot she existed. Tears burned hot in her eyes, but she would not let them fall. Not this time.  

A warm, heavy weight fell on her lap, accompanied by a soft huff and she laughed, looking down to see the massive, honey-colored mabari that lay his head on her.

She gave him a gentle scratch behind the ears, causing his entire rear end to wiggle.  “You worry about me too much, Bear.”

Bear raised up and barked in objection.  

“Oh, now you just sound like my mother,” she teased, and the dog panted happily, before rolling over and presenting his belly to be scratched. “Nuh-uh, Nope. Not after that tone, mister.”

Bear whimpered, rose to his paws, and slinked over to the corner of the room, where he plopped down on the floor to sulk and stare at Liss with big, pitiful eyes.  

Liss unintentionally became Bear’s chosen partner nearly a year prior.  She’d wandered into the kennels to search for Fergus, and the dog who was little more than a puppy, ran to her immediately.  Fergus arrived several moments later entirely disgusted. He’d been trying to get one of the dogs to imprint on him since he was a boy, with no luck.  Now, he insisted on referring to Bear as “not a real warhound” and “an oversized lap dog.” He was just jealous. 

Ignoring the hounds pity party, Liss placed the envelope aside and picked up another that was addressed to her in familiar, elegant handwriting.  She tore the seal.

> _ Dear Liss, _
> 
> _ Happy birthday, sweet friend! I hope this letter finds you well, and that it arrives on (or at least very near) your actual birthday.  Otherwise I fear this might seem somewhat strange. Then again, you’ve always been rather fond of strange. How else could you have put up with my brothers and I for all of these years. _
> 
> _ I apologize that it has been so long since I last wrote to you.  Things have been… uncomfortable since Nathaniel left, and they’ve only gotten worse.  Tom is completely self-destructive. I am waiting for the day when he snaps at Father. It would be unfair of me to expect him to have as much restraint as Nate, to always take everything on his shoulders so that everything would be as peaceful as it could be. We miss him dearly.  _
> 
> _ I sometimes think all of our problems would be solved if by brothers could trade places.  Thomas would get his freedom from Father he’s always wanted, and Nate could be home, behaving in an annoyingly responsible fashion.  _
> 
> _ Maybe he also would not insist on ignoring everyone who cares about him.  I know he probably still hasn’t written to you either. I am not a fighter like you are, but I am smart, and I know what to say to break him with my words.  I have yet to pay him back for destroying my favorite doll when we were little, after all.  _
> 
> _ Sorry— I know the last thing you probably want to talk about is my family life or my bull-headed brother .  I just… well, there is nobody else to talk to. It’s lonely more times than not. How are you doing? How is Fergus? Little Oren? He must be growing so fast!  _
> 
> _ I hope that I can visit you soon!  _
> 
> _ Much Love, _
> 
> _ Delilah _

Liss wiped a stubborn tear from her face.  She had nearly forgotten her own birthday. Bear was at her side again, nudging her with his nose. She placed her hand on his head to acknowledge his comfort and then sighed. Poor Delilah. 

She pulled another piece of parchment from her desk.  She did not know what to say to Delilah, but she’d not let that keep her from sending a response.  Letters deserved answers even if they were hard. 

> _ Dear Delilah, _
> 
> _ You have excellent timing, as always. Thank you for reminding me of my own birthday. Whatever would I do without you? _
> 
> _ I am so sorry to hear that things have been difficult for you since Nathaniel left.  I wish there were something I could say to make things better, but I have not even learned what to say to myself.  I’m not convinced that words help anything at all. I miss Nate, too. I only hope that he is all right.  _
> 
> _ My family and I are well! Fergus is a proud pop, and just as doting of a father as I would have expected of him.  Oren is absolutely getting so big and I’ve spoiled him already. I think Oriana may resent me for that.  _
> 
> _ Anyway, it is lovely to hear from you, my friend.  You should come visit soon. The summer festival perhaps?  I’d love to see you. _
> 
> _ Love, _
> 
> _ Liss _

Just as Liss finished the letter and sealed the envelope, there was a knock at the door, and Bear barked immediately, scurrying over to claw at the wooden surface.  He wagged his tail playfully, and she was assured that whoever it was on the other side was safe. Not that anyone unsafe had ever been at her door. 

Liss hopped up and rushed to open the door, shushing the excited hound and holding him back by the collar so that he didn’t immediately tackle her visitor.  

“Ser Gilmore,” she said, smiling as she saw the young knight’s bright red hair and brown eyes.  He was obviously proud of his newly granted knighthood, and flattered by Liss’ remembrance of it, as he held his chin up proudly, even as a pink tint spread over his face.

“Thank you Lady Cousland,” he said, “Most people have yet to become accustomed to me no longer being a squire.”

“By most people, do you happen to mean my brother?” Liss shifted her weight and placed a hand on her hip. 

Ser Gilmore laughed and scratched the back of his neck.  “He is the biggest offender, my lady.”

“I’ll wag my finger at him about it for you,” Liss promised, winking.

“You are too kind, my lady.” 

“Anyway, I am sure you didn’t come to talk about my brother.  What do you need?”

“Well,” the man began, looking down at the floor, “I wanted to ask if you might be willing to spar with me, my lady.”

“You know that I am always up for a fight.” Liss said, then furrowed her brows, “But why?”

“That Grey Warden, Duncan, is here looking for recruits.”

“He is? Huh.  I didn’t know you wanted to be a Grey Warden.”

“It is a childhood dream of mine. The Grey Wardens are heroes, and they only allow the best among their ranks.”  

Ser Gilmore became more and more animated as he spoke. Liss understood completely.  She’d read of Grey Wardens her whole life. She asked her father a thousand times if she could join some day. His answer was always the same chuckle and resounding “no.”  Helping Ser Gilmore was the closest she’d ever get to that glistening griffon armor. 

“You hope to impress Duncan by fighting me? A girl? The daughter of the Teyrn?” She meant none of her words, but she’d heard them enough it was instinct to toss them out before anyone else could.  She knew damn well she was twice as good a fighter as half of her father’s army. She was three times better than Fergus, and she didn’t let him forget it. 

As if reading her mind, Ser Gilmore flashed her a knowing smile. “There is no more worthy opponent in Highever, my lady.”

Liss snorted. “Well, now I have to do it. Flatterer.” 

“I speak only the truth.” He nodded humbly. “Thank you, my lady.  I will be waiting down in the courtyard whenever you are ready.”

Ser Gilmore bowed and turned to walk away, and Liss closed the door behind him so that she could put on her gambeson and grab her sword.  It was a rusty blade that she’d taken from the barracks just a couple years before, but it was her favorite, and she didn’t want any of the castle guards to use it.  In the corner of the room, where the broadsword leaned against the wall, a longbow and quiver of arrows lay as well. Before she picked up the blade, she took the bow in her hands, running her thumb across the letter N that was etched into the wood.  She didn’t want the castle guards to use it either.

Outside, the castle was quiet, little more than the pattering of rain against stone to fill the air.  It had been that way for weeks now, ever since news reached Highever that King Maric was missing, presumed dead.  Ferelden lost its great leader, and even the weather mourned him. Liss knew such superstitions were silly, but she could find little other explanation for the exceptionally cool, rainy weather in the second week of Justinian. Cailan had some big, gregarious shoes to fill. 

Ser Gilmore stood alone near the sparring area, hand on the hilt of his blade and looking up at the battlements, clearly watching for signs of Duncan.  The Grey Warden had a knack for showing up at opportune moments, and Liss had no doubt he would appear during their duel. Bear ran ahead of her to greet the knight and she quickened her pace to keep up with him.  

Ser Gilmore gave the hound a scratch behind the ears, which seemed to satisfy him and he walked over to lay under the awning of a shed, watching the match where he could be dry. Smart boy.   Liss, on the other hand, regretted that she hadn’t taken the time to braid her hair, or pull it back in any sort of fashion, as the long curls stuck to her face and neck. Annoying, but not a hindrance. 

“You ready, Soldier,” Liss teased, drawing her sword from its sheath strapped on her back, and adjusting her grip so that the hint sat comfortably in her hands. 

“So long as you are, Lady Cousland,” Ser Gilmore replied, sliding his longsword from his sheath and lifting his shield that bore the laurel branch crest.  

A smirk twitched at the corner of Liss’ mouth and she took a deep breath before charging at her opponent, swinging her sword forcefully, so that it crashed into his shield and staggered him.  He nearly lost his balance, but managed to stabilize himself in enough time to swing at her. She parried, and prepared to hit him again. They were a good match skillswise, and they and spent several minutes exchanging blows, back and forth, over and over, as the clanking of steel against steel filled the somber air.  Liss could have beaten him at any moment were she to fight dirty, but Ser Gilmore was a Knight, and it would be unfair to be anything but honorable. It was not long until they both were too winded to continue, each pausing to catch their breath. 

“You’ve shaped up,” Liss commented through gasps of air. 

“You as well,” Ser Gilmore said, laughing and sounding just as out of breath as she was.

Three slow claps echoed from across the Courtyard, and both snapped their heads toward the direction of the sound.  Just as Liss expected, Duncan was there, arriving just in time to see the fight. Papa stood next to him, wearing a proud grin.

“Well done,” Duncan said, “Both of you.”

“Thank you,” Ser Gilmore remarked with a nod of his head.  

“Yes, thank you,” Liss added, following suit. 

“Bryce, are you certain I can’t take them both,” Duncan asked, looking at her father with a wide grin. 

“You may take neither of them,” Papa replied, and Ser Gilmore appeared to deflate beside her, “At least not yet.  Ser Gilmore here may be young, but he’s one of the best we have. I would hate to see him gone so soon after being knighted.  Perhaps in a few years he will be ready to move on.” He glanced at the young knight and winked, causing him to sigh in relief.

“And your daughter,” Duncan asked, seeming to prod her father even further.

“Never,” Papa answered quickly, “Even If Elissa wished to join—“

“I do, Papa,” Liss interjected and he shook his head.

“— It wouldn’t be a proper role for her.  She has responsibilities to our family. Not to mention, Eleanor would never allow it.  Not her darling girl, not ever.”

“I understand.” Duncan nodded solemnly, and turned to offer Liss and Ser Gilmore a kind smile, before looking back at her father.  “Is there anyone else?”

“Yes.  Right this way.”  Papa motioned to Duncan with his hand and the two men walked away. 

Liss turned to face Ser Gilmore, and reached out to clap him on the shoulder.  “I’m sorry.”  

“There is nothing to be sorry for, my lady,” he answered, placing his gloved hand over her own that remained on his pauldron and meeting her gaze with a soft, crooked smile.  

He loved her in his own way.  She could tell in the look of reverence on his face each time he spoke to her.  It was in his constant attention to her safety and comfort even when he wasn’t on duty.  She should have been delighted to have the unwavering affection of a handsome knight. Delilah would have been.  A much younger, more imaginative Liss would have been. It had been a fanciful little girl dream for a knight in shining armor to swoop in and win her heart.  She was not sure when that changed, when the desire for powerful, earth shattering romance disappeared, but it had. She wished, more than anything, to be her own knight in shining armor, and to win her own heart back.  If it decided to return from the Free Marches of it’s own accord, well, she wouldn’t mind that either. 

It would have been simpler if Ser Gilmore didn’t love her. Maybe then she could let herself get lost in the fantasy, forget about grumpy, raven-haired boys that wouldn’t return her letters.  However, Ser Gilmore was the kindest of kind men, and she wouldn’t use him like that, especially considering that it could get him in all sorts of trouble for fraternizing with one of his charges. No, if she wanted a distraction, she’d have to find someone else. 

Liss had barely gotten dried off and settled in her quarters with a book and Bear’s head across her lap, when another knock thumped on her door.  It was to the rhythm of Andraste’s Mabari, and Liss laughed and shook her head, before Bear had the chance to bark at it. She hopped up and ran to the door eagerly.

“Fergus,” she said before she even opened the door to see her brother’s goofy grin and pudgy little Oren in his arms, big brown eyes framed by dark brown curls.  He had a wooden soldier figurine in his mouth. Oriana stood behind them smiling pleasantly.  

“Oren, tell auntie Liss happy birthday,” Fergus said, bouncing him up and down a few times, “She’s all grown up now.” Oren took the soldier out of his mouth and made some barely intelligible noise that she figured was supposed to be “happy birthday,” then giggled and reached for her with both arms. 

Her heart swelled. “Oh come here, you handsome boy,” she cooed as she took him from Fergus’ arms to hold him at her hip with one arm.  He tangled his little hands in her damp hair and she knew it was only a matter of time before it would be in his mouth, too. She looked up at Fergus and Oriana, motioning for them to come inside. 

“Happy birthday, sis,” Fergus said, wrapping an arm around her and kissing the top of her head.

“Happy birthday, Elissa,” Oriana chimed in, extending out a small, beautifully wrapped package, which Liss took with her free hand.  “Fergus insisted on picking it out, but I wrapped it for him.”

“I hope you like it,” Fergus stated proudly. 

“Here, Oren, help me out,” she said holding the package up to him.  He released a fistful of her hair to grab hold of one end of the deep purple ribbon.  Liss pulled the package away from him, so that the ribbon came loose and the packaging fell away, revealing a small, leatherbound journal.  On the front, it had a large letter E in script, surrounded by a wreath of laurel branches. 

“Oh,” Liss remarked hoarsely, a lump forming in her throat, “It’s beautiful. Thank you.”

“It’s been a long time since you wrote anything except letters,” Fergus explained, “I figured I could help with that.  I do miss sneaking into your room and reading all of your stories.”

“I’m still not over that invasion of privacy, you know,” Liss stated tersely.

“That’s fine,” he replied with a shrug.  

The door creaked open again, and her parents entered the room.  Mama rushed immediately to her to dote upon Oren, taking him from her arms and humming one of her old pirate songs to him.  Oriana appeared to be only a little bit irritated by the notion. Papa walked on more slowly, appearing to hold something behind his back.  His smile stretched the entirety of his face causing his eyes to wrinkle up at the sides.

“You have something for me there, Papa,” Liss teased, walking over to meet him.  Everyone watched as he pulled a sword from behind his back and handed it to her. She took it with both hands, wrapping one around the filigreed hilt to slide it from its sheath.  It was the most beautiful weapon she’d ever seen, so beautiful that it was disarming. An interesting choice for a broadsword, but she could not have adored it any more.  

“Happy birthday, pup,” her papa spoke up, voice cracking with emotion, “Your mother and I are so proud of the young lady you’ve grown into.  We couldn’t think of a more fitting gift for our girl.”

Returning the sword to its sheath and setting it against the wall, she ran to him, and he embraced her in the warm, fatherly way he always had, squeezing tightly. “Thank you,” she said, and then pulled back away to look at everyone in the room, her family, and her heart felt so full. “Thank you all.”

For a moment, the missing piece didn’t seem so large.  She didn’t feel so alone.


	29. Objectivity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nathaniel loses his cool.

_**Denerim 9:31 Dragon** _

“Thank you for coming to meet with me again,” Anora said politely as Nathaniel entered her study, and used every ounce of his willpower to hide his annoyance at her unfortunate timing. 

“It is my pleasure, your majesty,” he stated, forcing a smile and closing the door behind him. 

So close.  He’d been so close to finally saying everything he’d wanted to say to Liss for the past—what was it now? Seventeen years?— to explaining to her why he hadn’t written, to apologizing for having his head up his own arse.  He had no idea how she’d take it all, but that moment in the market, when she’d looked at him as she had the night before he left Highever that last time, gave him hope. It also gave him every reason to resent that he was standing in the queen’s office rather than Liss’ quarters.  

“You need not flatter me, Nathaniel,”Anora answered with a smirk, motioning for him to sit.  He had forgotten that he’d even flattered her.

He sat down in the chair across from her desk and crossed his arms.  “What is it that you need, your majesty?”

Anora bit her lip and exhaled an uncharacteristically shaky breath. “I am certain you are aware of the upheaval the Grey Wardens’ actions in Amaranthine have caused.”

“Better than most, I’m sure.”

“More specifically, the discontent with the current arlessa,” she explained, “There is… concern that she is acting out of her own interests.”

Nathaniel laughed irreverently. “Lucia? With all due respect, your majesty, if setting herself on fire could have saved Amaranthine, she would have done so long before she torched the city.”

“I am familiar enough with the Warden-Commander to know this; however, my council is… unconvinced.  The people of Amaranthine are unconvinced.”

“I figured as much,” he sighed, “Let me guess: They are all very concerned about my presence as well.”

“Hardly, although Eamon insists on playing that card,” she remarked with a bitter laugh, “Arl Bryland has suggested that the arling be returned to your family.”

Nathaniel blinked a few times as if it would help him to hear the words better.  “ _What?_ ” He laughed. “I find that incredibly difficult to believe.  My uncle has no love for my family.”

“Perhaps not,” Anora admitted,”And that is not why he made the suggestion.”

“Then why?”

“Despite the fallacy of the claims, there are many in Ferelden who still believe that the Wardens are responsible for the losses at Ostagar.  Even those who don’t are concerned with the growing political power of a formerly exiled Order, one that claims to be without political affiliation.  It is causing a level of unrest with which I am uncomfortable.”

Nathaniel leaned forward.  “I see your point, but… I am a Warden.  Transferring the arling to me would not make a difference.”

“That is why I intend to give it to Delilah,” Anora said with a knowing smile, “What do you think?”

A weight fell from his shoulders and his chest swelled.  It made so much sense. Delilah was brilliant and responsible.  As far as he knew, she managed affairs in Amaranthine to the best of her ability while  father played his games. Not to mention it would put the necessary distance between the Wardens and any sort of political authority. “I think that it is a brilliant idea.”

“It is my hope that her taking the title of Arlessa will settle the voices of dissenters, and I am certain she will be sympathetic to the Warden cause, allowing them—you—to maintain a stronghold at Vigil’s Keep.”

Nathaniel nodded, but remembered his sister’s flight from Ferelden with her merchant husband and the baby she carried, and frowned. It seemed cruel and unfair to ask her to leave the quiet life she now had, a life that was desirable to petty Fereldan politics.  Yet, there were no other viable options. Tom was, for all intents and purposes, deceased, and Nathaniel had gotten himself conscripted into the very order that the nobility mistrusted. Once again, Delilah’s peace and happiness would be sacrificed because he failed to be the big brother she deserved. 

“You appear concerned,” Anora remarked matter-of-factly, snapping him from his ruminations.

He laughed, shaking his head and pinching the bridge of his nose. “Delilah is going to hate this.  She was finally happy.”

“I know.  I am sorry.” She paused and sighed.  “Do you think she will still accept, if asked.”

“Without question.” He nodded his head affirmatively. 

“Good.  I shall send word to her as soon as I can.”  She flashed a brief smile that held only sympathy for the decision she had to make. “Thank you, Nathaniel.  That will be all.”

“Yes, your majesty,” he answered quickly, standing and bowing his head before exiting the room.  

Just stepping outside the study, hearing the door click behind him as the hallway extended in front of him, his pulse jumped.  Nothing stood in the way of his confession to Liss now, and nothing excused him from it. He had never been more ready for anything in his life, and yet he felt completely unprepared. He knew he should just do it, but convinced himself that it would help him to read his letter he wrote to her one last time, as if he could forget what it said.  

Reaching into his pack, he pulled out the small envelope, removed the parchment, and unfolded it.  His heart sank at the first words on the page. “Dear Tom” was not his letter to Liss. Then where—

“Shit,” he muttered, and shoved the letter back in its envelope.  He turned down the corridor that led to the main hall, rather than continuing to the guest wing.  Taking both envelopes with him had been a horrible decision among a million other horrible decisions that now replayed themselves in his mind.

It had only been an hour or so since Nathaniel stood in the Market District with Liss, and it seemed a different place entirely.  It was much louder, busier, as people pushed past one another, bumping shoulders and grumbling. He wove his way through groups of chattering people, muttering “excuse me’s” and apologies, until he reached the wooden door to the smithy.  It was an odd trade for a former Antivan Crow, but the woman called Bria still seemed to be quite adept at blacksmithing. If earlier events were any indication, she knew Liss as well.

He pushed the door open quickly, a wave of heat smacking into his face, and warming the tip of his chilled nose.  At the forge, Bria stopped her work and looked up at him with an enormous smile filled with mischief.  

“Ah,” she exclaimed, “I knew you would be back.”

“You knew?

“Mhmm.” She walked away from the forge and moved behind the counter, bending down, and popping back up with a familiar envelope held loosely between her fingers. “I do not think this is the letter you want to send to your Thomas.”

Nathaniel’s face grew warm in such a way that he knew it was not from the forge. “You read it?”

“Of course not.” She turned the envelope so that he could see the front, lips turning up into a small smirk. “It is addressed to Lady Elissa. You were quite flustered when she walked in, yes?”

“I suppose I was,” he admitted, unable to hide the undoubtedly ridiculous smile that spread across his face. “That would explain why I gave you the wrong letter.”

He took Liss’ letter from Bria’s hand, tucking it firmly into his coat, and giving her the letter intended for Tom.  She snatched it playfully and eyed him with a perplexed expression, clicking her tongue. 

“What,” he asked, frowning at her. 

“It seems to me that you should be doing much more than writing her letters,” she said, with a wink, before bending down to place Tom’s letter under the counter. 

“Why would you think that?”

Bria chuckled knowingly and raised back up, leaning forward so that her elbows were on the countertop. “You love her.  It is written all over your pretty face.”

“You are perceptive.” 

“In my profession, being perceptive is imperative.” 

“Blacksmithing?”  Nathaniel quirked an eyebrow up at her and smirked. 

“Blacksmithing,” she replied with a nod and another mischievous smile. 

There was a brief moment of silence between them and he cleared his throat to speak.  “I should… head back to the castle.” 

“You should.” Bria grinned broadly, eyes glimmering with amusement. 

He nodded, ignoring the heat that still lingered in his face and the sinking pit in his stomach as he left the shop and made his way to the castle.  

Nathaniel returned to the guest wing, pausing briefly to pull the letter from his coat and read his own words again, a reminder of all that he wanted to say.  It did nothing to ease his anxiety, of course, and he knew there was only one solution. She was just down the hall, in her quarters, and no doubt tired of waiting for him.  It would be as quick as knocking on her door and as painless as swallowing his pride.  

The door to her quarters looked just as the doors to any of the other rooms, just as his own guest room.  There was nothing special about the door, other than who lay beyond it. He laughed at the thought of all the times she’d shown up at his door during their childhood.  How she’d seemingly given no second thought to rapping out a rhythm with her knuckles. If only he were so uninhibited. 

Willing his hand to the smooth, wooden surface, he knocked three times.  There was no answer, but the door moved under his touch. It had not even been closed all the way.  He pushed it open hesitantly. “Liss?”

Liss didn’t answer, but he caught a glimpse of her as he peered past the door and into the room.  She lay face down on the bed, a mass of blond curls springing up from the pillow. He entered the room completely and approached her, noticing how her body rose and fell with each slow breath.  Her head was turned to the side, so that her face was visible past a lock or two of hair. Her lips twitched as well as did her hand that lay on the pillow next to her face. The sheets and coverlet were a bundled mess around her, undoubtedly failing at their function of keeping her warm.

Nathaniel bent down and took hold of the covers, straightening them out, and pulling them up to cover Liss’ nearly-bare arms.  As he did so, something on her shoulder caught his eye. In a spot where her hair had conveniently parted , just near the curve of her neck was a long, deep mark, a scar left by a sword or an axe.  No matter how he tried to avoid the image of her wounded, bleeding, stumbling about to escape her own home, he couldn’t. He ached at the thought of how alone she must have felt in that moment, how afraid.  If only he had been there.

Liss roused slightly and rolled beneath the blankets.  Her eyes flickered open, barely, and she looked up at him. “Nate?”  Her voice was hoarse, heavy with sleep.  

“It’s me,” he whispered, reaching out to brush one of her wild curls from her face, “Go back to sleep.  We can talk later.”

She smiled, groggily, eyes fluttering shut as she brought her hand up to cover his. A soft chuckle escaped him and he allowed his hand to linger on her cheek for a moment before pulling away.  If he’d ever been uncertain of his feelings for her, that small exchange would have him convinced. Maker, he was hopeless.  

He turned to exit the room, pulling the door closed as gently as he could so as to not wake her again.   It was only early evening, and a large part of him wanted her to be awake. It was an impatient thought, a selfish one, and he refused to give in to it.  The woman hadn’t slept much at all the night before, and he would not disturb her. 

Nathaniel walked back down the hall, passing his own room, and heading toward Lucia’s.  He had not spoken with the Warden-Commander since the night before, and she’d been rather upset.  He worried for her, and thought to check in. It would pass the time and give him a chance to break the news to her about Amaranthine if she did not already know. 

When he reached Lucia’s room,  he stopped at the door and knocked.  There were noises of someone fumbling about on the other side, and then the door swung open.  

“Nathaniel,” she said, eyes widening as if startled to see him.

“Busy?”

“No.” She shook her head and opened the door further. “Come in.”

He entered the room and waited for Lucia to close the door and return.  She sat down gently in a sturdy wooden chair by the fireplace, and motioned for him to sit in one of the other available chairs near her. He did so, watching as she fidgeted in her seat uncharacteristically. 

“Have you spoken with Queen Anora, yet,” she asked. 

“I have.  I had wondered if you knew about her plans for my sister.”

“I do,” she said, blinking  as she gazed into the fire, “To be quite honest, I am relieved.  This is far beyond what I signed up for when I joined the Wardens.”

“And what exactly did you sign up for?”

“Freedom,” Lucia remarked, bringing her sharp eyes to meet his, “I was conscripted after I attempted to escape Kinloch Hold with a friend of mine and his lover.  We were caught, and in his desperation he used blood magic to flee. The Templars wanted to make me Tranquil or execute me for ‘conspiring with a blood mage.’ I would be dead—or worse— if it were not for the Grey Wardens.”

“I had… no idea.” 

“I don’t talk about it much.  Those are not my favorite memories,” she explained, “Needless to say, I am more than happy to give up my title to your sister.  From what I know of her, she will be a far better arlessa than I could ever hope to be.”

Nathaniel offered her a smile, and nodded, unable to find any words that felt appropriate for the circumstances.  Lucia appeared to accept the gesture, and turned her eyes back to the dancing flames under the mantle. After several moments of silence passed between them, he brought himself to speak again. “I actually came to see how you are today.  I know that you were rather upset when we spoke last night.”

Lucia heaved a heavy sigh and the hint of a smile curved at the edges of her mouth.  “I’m all right, I suppose.”

“Better than last night?”

“Definitely.” She nodded. “I took some time to think about what you and I discussed.  I gave myself permission to be angry, and then the anger dissipated.”

“Sometimes that is all it takes.”

“I am still hurt, of course. I think I will be hurt for a long time,” she explained, wringing her hands in her lap, “That does nothing to change my feelings for Alistair. We’ve never been perfect, but we’ve survived so much together.  Certainly we can solve this as well.”

“What are Alistair’s feelings on the matter,” Nathaniel asked, hoping his question was not too intrusive.

To his relief, she did not seem offended, and turned to look at him again as she answered.  “He thinks we need to talk more about what happened between us, to process it all. I’d rather not have to.”  She laughed dryly. “He’s probably right, isn’t he?”

Nathaniel laughed in return.  “Unfortunately, I believe he is.” 

As their conversation died down, a tense silence stretchedl between them, and he watched as Lucia returned to fidgeting uncomfortably in her chair.  Her brow furrowed deeper and deeper and she trained her eyes so intently on the grey stone floor before them, that he began to wonder if she was attempting to count the bricks.  He opened his mouth to speak, but closed it promptly as Lucia looked up at him again. 

“I spoke with Elissa,” she stated quickly, as if she could not get the words past her lips fast enough. 

He flinched.  ‘You...did?”

“Yes.  I was curious to meet her, to see what she is like.” She paused and eyed him knowingly.  “She is very beautiful, isn’t she?”

Nathaniel froze, unable to utter anything more than an “Um,” past the lump in his throat.  

“It is a fact, Nathaniel,” Lucia said, offering him a smirk before she rose to her feet and began to pace about, “Just as it is a fact that she is intelligent, strong, and compassionate.”

“I certainly think so,” he managed to say, observing her as she chewed on her bottom lip. 

“I can see why you care for her,” she admitted, “I can see why Alistair does.” 

“Lucia, is there any reason why you’re telling me all of this?”  The words sounded more irritated than he intended them to.

She snapped her head back to look at him, then slowly turned her gaze back to the fire before falling back into the chair where she’d previously been sitting.  She sat in silence for several moments before closing her eyes, taking a deep breath, and speaking. “She asked to join the Wardens.”

“ _What,_ ” he asked, certain that there was no way he heard her properly. 

“I know,” Lucia stated somberly, “I was surprised myself.  She is certainly capable, but it makes no sense to me why someone of her status would want to join us. 

“Typical Liss, honestly,” he laughed briefly, “How did she take it when you told her no?”

“I…”

“Please tell me you told her no.” Nathaniel’s heart fell to his stomach at the hesitation.

“I cautioned her against it, but she seems very determined.”  Lucia’s voice trembled as she spoke, and Nathaniel almost felt bad for the anger that bubbled in his chest at her words.  “We only have seven wardens in Ferelden. It would be foolish to refuse a willing recruit.”

“I understand,  I do,” he said as calmly as he could, though his own shaky words betrayed him, “Recruit anyone else in this whole blighted country, but not her.  Please. I am asking you, as your friend, to tell her no.”

Lucia stiffened, straightening her posture before she spoke again, poised as ever. “And I am telling you, as your commanding officer, that I can’t do that.  I am sorry, but —”

“Of course you are, _commander_ ,” he interrupted her with pointed words, “But you will have to forgive me if I don’t accept it.  It certainly does not change my objection to this decision of yours.”

Lucia just watched him intently, expression unchanging. “I do not need your approval.” 

“Then why bother telling me,” he asked desperately.

“Because I respect you, and I thought you deserved to know,” she stated, voice more forceful, “I thought you would understand my reasoning.” 

“Logic and reason don’t make a decision right,” Nathaniel snapped, “You always argue rationality, and then wear your apologies like they are a suit of armor against the consequences of those decisions.  Tell me, if any of those justifications were truly justifications, if your apologies helped anything, then would you still hate yourself so much?”

He regretted the words as soon as they left his lips.  He regretted them even more at the sight of utter betrayal on the young woman’s face.  She was doing her best. She was doing what she thought was right. She had relied on his support, and now he’d turned on her completely.  And why? Because he was angry? Scared? Pathetic. 

“You have supported every one of my decisions until now,” she bit back, clearly struggling to keep the tears from her eyes.  

“I have, but that does not mean I will support everything you do unflinchingly,” he argued, “I understand why you would believe recruiting Liss is a good decision.  It is a good decision, objectively, but my feelings aren’t objective. If she fails the Joining, that blood will be on you and your hands alone.”

He clearly intended to burn ever bridge he’d built between he and Lucia to the ground in a matter of minutes.  He was too furious to care, too terrified to think of anyone but himself.

“Nathaniel, I—“ 

He waved his hand dismissively and stood up.  “You know what? Forget it. I know you won’t change your mind.”

Lucia’s face hardened, settling into an icy, neutral expression.  “Very well.” 

There was a heavy, painful silence until Nathaniel spoke again.  “By your leave, Commander.”

She nodded slowly, and he turned abruptly and stomped out the door.  

In the hallway, Alistair approached Lucia’s quarters.  He hummed some Chantry hymn and twirled a rose between his fingers.  He looked up just in time to see Nathaniel storm out. Waving genially, he said, “Oh, hi Nathaniel.”

“Go soak your head,” Nathaniel grumbled as he brushed past Alistair without so much as making eye contact. It was not his best moment. 

As he continued on down the hall, he heard the other man whine sarcastically, “But that would mess up my hair.”

Under normal circumstances, Nathaniel would have laughed, replied with a good natured barb, and apologized for being rude.  These were not normal circumstances, and so continued on without so much as a word. He had already said enough.


End file.
